LIFE AND LETTERS 



OF 



THOMAS GOLD APPLETON. 



PREPARED BY 

SUSAN HALE. 




NEW YORK : 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

I, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
1885. 






Copyright, 1885, 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 



y^ 



:?/ 



" . . . I am become a name 
For always roaming with a hungry heart. 
Much have I seen and known; cities of men 
And manners, climates, councils, governments ; 
Myself not least, but honored of them all. 
. . . Yet all experience is an arch where-through 
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades, 
Forever and forever when I move." 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER 






PAGE 


I. 


Biographical . 


. 


. 7 


II. 


Boyhood. 1812-1825 




14 


III. 


Round Hill. 1826 


. 


. 23 


IV. 


Round Hill Letters. 1827 




38 


V. 


College-Life. 1828-1832 


. 


. 62 


VI. 


First Voyage. 1833 




83 


VII. 


London. 1833 


. 


. 103 


VIII. 


Paris. 1833 




123 


IX. 


Switzerland and Gennany. 


1833 • 


. 142 


X. 


Florence. 1 833-1 834 . 




166 


XI. 


Southern Skies. 1834 


. 


. 185 


XII. 


Two Weeks in a French Chateau. 1834 


211 


XIII. 


Wandering Years. I. 1835-1844 . 


. 232 


XIV. 


Wandering Years. II. i 


845 . 


252 


XV. 


Wandering Years. III. 


1846-1854 . 


. 270 


XVI. 


Oatlands Park. 1855 


. 


291 


XVII. 


Home Wanderings. 1856- 


-1863 


. 304 


XVIII. 


Commonwealth Avenue. 


1864-1874 


318 


XIX. 


Years of Repose. 1875-1883 . 


. 335 


XX. 


The Last. 1884 . 


• • 


345 




CHAPTER I. 

BIOGRAPHICAL. 

Thomas Gold Appleton was born in Boston, 
Massachusetts, on the 3TSt of March, 1812. His 
father was Nathan Appleton, a merchant of Boston. 

The Appletons emigrated from Suffolk, England, 
to America, in 1635, and settled in Ipswich, Massa- 
chusetts. A part of the original grant of land held 
by them still remains in the possession of the family. 
Samuel Appleton, their ancestor, was a sturdy Puri- 
tan ; he transmitted his principles and convictions to 
his sons, John and Samuel, who gained distinction in 
their time as stanch defenders of civil and religious 
liberty, by resisting the arbitrary measures of Sir Ed- 
mund Andros, the colonial Governor, in 1687, a pe- 
riod when such resistance entailed persecution and 
imprisonment. 

Nearly a century later, Deacon Isaac Appleton, of 
the fifth generation since the emigration of the family 
to New England, went to New Ipswich, New Hamp- 
shire. Of his twelve children, two sons — Samuel 



8 Thomas G, Appleton. 

and Nathan — became eminent men in Boston. The 
brothers were leaders in the commercial development 
of New England ; to Nathan Appleton is due, in a 
great measure, the first introduction of the power- 
loom into this country, with the foundation of the city 
of Lowell, and other enterprises establishing large 
manufacturing industries. 

Nathan Appleton, born October 6, 1779, died July 
14, 1 86 1. He married Maria Theresa Gold, of Pitts- 
field, Massachusetts. Their children were : 

1. Thomas Gold, died April 17, 1884. 

2. Mary, married Robert Charles Mackintosh. 

3. Charles Sedgwick, died 1835. 

4. Frances Elizabeth, married H. W. Longfellow, 
died 1861. 

5. George William, .died 1827. 

Mrs. Appleton died in February, 1833. In 1839 
Nathan Appleton was married for the second time. 
His wife was Harriot Coffin Sumner, of Boston. Their 
children were : 

1. William Sumner, married Edith Stuart Ap- 
pleton. 

2. Harriot, married Greely Stevenson Curtis. 

3. Nathan. 

Thomas was born in Boston, and there passed the 
greater part of his childhood. He was for some time 
at a private school in Jamaica Plain, kept by Mr. 



Biographical. 9 

Charles Greene, who is still remembered by the pupils 
who were under his care as an excellent and popular 
teacher ; he passed a year at the Boston Latin School, 
and in 1825, at the age of thirteen, joined a school 
established at Round Hill, Northampton, by Mr. 
George Bancroft and Mr. Joseph Cogswell. Three 
years later, in 1828, he entered the sophomore class 
at Harvard University, and graduated in 1831 ; he 
remained at Cambridge, in the law -school, during 
1832. 

Not long after the death of his mother, in the 
spring of 1833, Thomas sailed for Europe. This was 
the first of a series of voyages across the Atlantic, in 
the course of his life, during which he visited many 
lands, and became familiar with the languages, pict- 
ure-galleries, and scenery of Europe. In his first 
tour, which lasted little over a year, he formed ties, 
never to be severed, with friends in England and upon 
the Continent ; and laid the foundations for the life of 
intellectual study and artistic enjoyment which he was 
destined to lead. 

For many years following, either alone or with 
members of his family, he passed much of his time 
in Europe, drawn by the attractions of Paris to take 
an apartment there for a whole winter, or tempted to 
London by the society of his sister, Mrs. Mackintosh, 
who, after her marriage, was established there. He 



lo Thomas G. Applet on. 

disliked the winter climate of Boston, and generally 
avoided it. He was, however, fond of the American 
summer, and not unfrequently suddenly recrossed the 
Atlantic, for the sake of the fresh breezes of Nahant, 
or the charms of Newport society. 

Several years after her marriage, Mr. Appleton 
took a house in Cambridge, to be near his sister, Mrs. 
Longfellow, to whom, and whose growing family, he 
was warmly attached. As he approached the age of 
fifty years, even his ardor for travel and active spirit 
of observation were yielding to the wish for repose and 
the charms of a fireside. He thought of a more per- 
manent establishment, and, buying land in Common- 
wealth Avenue, built the house in which he passed 
the rest of his life. 

It was finished in 1864. Before it was ready to 
live in, Mrs. Longfellow's death occurred, followed 
a few days later by that of his father. The loss of 
these two, so dear to him, made a void in his life 
never to be filled ; but his strong regard for his 
brother-in-law, Mr. Longfellow, his affection for his 
nephews and nieces, the children of so beloved a sis- 
ter, and his warm interest in his half-brothers and 
sister, from this time forward fully occupied his heart ; 
while the rest of his life was devoted, in a great meas- 
ure, to the advancement of his native town in art, 
literature, and every form of intellectual culture. He 



Biographical. 1 1 

had been a trustee of the Boston Athenaeum from the 
early beginning of its modest collections in Pearl 
Street, and watched and aided its advance as it 
grew into the present Museum of Fine Arts. The 
Public Library was also an object of his care ; in- 
deed, all schemes for the adornment and improve- 
ment of Boston found in him a ready advocate and 
worker. 

In 1868, after an interval of several years, Mr. Ap- 
pleton again went to Europe, this time in company 
with Mr. Longfellow and his daughters ; in 1874 he 
made the Eastern tour, passing that winter on the 
Nile, and the spring of 1875 i^ Syria. 

This was his last foreign journey. With the ex- 
ception of several excursions in America, and sum- 
mers passed either in Nahant or Newport, the rest of 
his life was spent in Boston. In the winter of 1877, a 
fall on the ice caused an accident to his leg, confining 
him to his bed for many weeks ; the lameness which 
followed, although not permanent, rendered him cau- 
tious in his movements, more sedentary, and less in- 
clined than of old to bodily effort. His mind, how- 
ever, was never more active. He had already pub- 
lished several volumes of essays and reminiscences ; 
during the time that he was shut up in the house he 
wrote, by dictation, " Syrian Sunshine," containing his 
impressions of Palestine. An accomplished artist, Mr. 



12 Thomas G, Appleton. 

Appleton had devoted many hours in his life to the 
use of the brush and pencil ; these occupations now 
served to fill up the time and give pleasure to his 
friends. His poetical thoughts from boyhood found 
easy expression in graceful verse, plentifully scattered 
through his journals and among his papers. Some of 
these poems have been collected and published. 

Mr. Appleton never lost his zest for travel, and, 
in the later years of his life, often ran on to New York 
and Washington in the spring, to vary the monotony 
of a long Boston winter. It was upon the last of 
these excursions that he caught cold ; and, detained 
in the Albemarle Hotel, New York, by pneumonia, 
he died there, after a brief and not painful illness 
of a few days, on the 17th of April, 1884. 

Always industrious, even in the pursuit of pleas- 
ure, Mr. Appleton left ample journals of his earlier 
travels. It is chiefly from these, and from his full 
and frank letters to his father from abroad, that the 
following pages have been compiled. 

Everything of a strictly private nature has been 
omitted, and much of the detailed account of build- 
ings, picture-galleries, and scenery of foreign lands, 
which, wonderful to the enthusiastic young tourist, 
were set down with minute description for the benefit 
of untraveled friends at home. Such descriptions, 
with the glow omitted, to be sure, may be found now 



Bio graph tea L 13 

in the more hackneyed phrase of guide-books and 
countless books of travel. 

Only such passages have been selected as should 
give the thread of Mr. Appleton's life, and present 
some idea of the wide circle of its observation and 
its sympathies. It would be, doubtless, possible, at 
some future time, to gather from the surviving cor- 
respondents of Mr. Appleton a full collection of his 
letters, but no such completeness has been now aimed 
at. 



CHAPTER II. 

BOYHOOD. 
1812-1825. 

A HAPPY little boy, the son of devoted parents, 
making light of lessons, and working hard at play, 
popular with his playmates, and a favorite with his 
teachers, is the image called up by the earliest letters 
and the latest reminiscences of Thomas Gold Apple- 
ton. 

He has described himself going to school in Pond 
Street (now Bedford), so called because there really 
was a pond in it — playing upon the wall which kept 
the sea from overflowing Charles Street ; once jump- 
ing upon a scow there, and falling into the water, 
afterward taken home to be well warmed and well 
scolded. In those days the Common was a beautiful 
field of natural grass, where cows might graze, in- 
closed in a double fence of wooden rails. Mr. Apple- 
ton used to tell how the boys of his day loved to walk 
upon the top rail of this fence ; and how one of them, 



Boyhood, 1 5 

engaged in this sport, slipped and fell, biting his 
tongue so that it had to be sewed up. He loved to 
recall the adventure of finding one day some money 
scattered on a path of the Common, which he sup- 
posed at first to be nothing but buttons ; his joy in 
discovering they were really fourpences, and his de- 
cision to spend them for the common good of the 
boys in figs and raisins. The Frog-pond was a frog- 
pond then, with real frogs in it ; the shores were 
muddy, and a willow hung over the water on the 
Beacon Street side. Thomas once lost a jackknife 
in the pond, and, to his latest day, often looked wist- 
fully into its waves, as he passed by, in the vague hope 
of discerning this long-lost treasure. 

In winter there was coasting, from the upper cor- 
ner of Park Street across to Tremont, then, as now, 
the favorite direction for it. Tom's sled, named 
*' Nimble Dick," is still remembered " by some old 
gentlemen," he says, " as the ne plus ultra of speed 
and beauty." 

In those days a horse and chaise was a favorite 
means of pleasure-travel ; with his father, Tom took 
long drives in the country, and learned his first les- 
sons, by close observation, in a love of Nature, which 
clung to him all his life. One of these drives was to 
the Appleton pulpit in Saugus, where Samuel Apple- 
ton, an ancestor of the family, in 1687, exhorted his 



1 6 Thomas G. Appleton, 

listeners to resist the tyranny of Sir Edmund An- 
dros. It is a pretty spot ; a steep, almost perpen- 
dicular, cliff rises from a grassy base, with trees and 
shrubs inclosing it. The flat top, at the edge of 
the precipice, is a fine, commanding position for an 
orator. Some years since, by Mr. Appleton's direc- 
tion, a tablet was fastened on the surface of the 
rock, to identify the place, and commemorate the 
occasion. 

Another object of their drives was Nahant. Mr. 
Nathan Appleton was fond of the sea, and liis son 
inherited the taste. Driving across the long beach, 
and watching the creaming waves, the boy talked with 
his father on every subject. Many traces of these 
conversations remained in his mind in later years. 
There was from the beginning the closest companion- 
ship between them, and the warmest sympathy and 
affection. 

Mrs. Appleton, the mother of Thomas, was a lovely 
woman, of great personal charm, a superior intellect, 
and deep religious sentiment. An invalid for the later 
years of her life, she impressed all who saw her, and 
her children especially, with the purity of her char- 
acter. Her memory was always treasured by her 
son with a reverence and affection deeply pervading 
his character. From his father, Thomas, even as a 
little boy, received some knowledge of the Unitarian 



Boyhood, 1 7 

views announced by Dr. Channing. A pew in Dr. 
Channing's church, in Federal Street, belonged to the 
family, and remained in their possession after the 
congregation migrated to Arlington Street, where, in 
his later years, Mr. Appleton was a constant attend- 
ant. 

Two of his companions in early youth were Wen- 
dell Phillips and John Lothrop Motley, with whom 
Tom had a close intimacy. The dramatic instincts 
of all three sought development in a series of per- 
formances in the Motley house in Walnut Street, 
where the young performers, without audiences, used 
to strut and rant in impromptu costumes. 

Dr. Holmes, in his " Life of John Lothrop Mot- 
ley," has described this period. He says : 

" His father's family was at this time living in the 
house No. 7 Walnut Street, looking down Chestnut 
Street, over the water to the western hills. Near by, 
at the corner of Beacon Street, was the residence of 
the family of the first Mayor of Boston ; and at a 
little distance from the opposite corner was the house 
of one of the fathers of New England manufacturing 
enterprise, a man of superior intellect, who built up 
a great name and fortune in our city. The children 
from these three homes naturally became playmates. 
Mr. Motley's house was a very hospitable one, and 
Lothrop and two of his young companions were al- 



1 8 Thomas G, Appleton. 

lowed to carry out their schemes of amusement in 
the garden and the garret. If one with a prescient 
glance could have looked into that garret, on some 
Saturday afternoon, while our century was not far 
advanced in its second score of years, he might have 
found three boys in cloaks and doublets and plumed 
hats, heroes and bandits, enacting more or less im- 
promptu melodramas. In one of the boys he would 
have seen the embryo dramatist of a nation's life- 
history — John Lothrop Motley ; in the second, a fa- 
mous talker and wit, who has spilled more good things 
on the wasteful air in conversation than would carry 
a * diner-out * through half a dozen London seasons, 
and waked up, somewhat after the usual flowering- 
time of authorship, to find himself a very agreeable 
and cordially welcomed writer — Thomas Gold Apple- 
ton. In the third, he would have recognized a cham- 
pion of liberty, known wherever that word is spoken, 
an orator whom to hear is to revive all the traditions 
of the grace, the address, the commanding sway of 
the silver-tongued eloquence of the most renowned 
speakers — ^Wendell Phillips." 

Some childish letters are still preserved, written 
on long foolscap paper, now yellow with time, the 
lines carefully ruled with pencil, the capital letters 
conscientiously formed, the sheet adorned with flour- 
ishes, and occasionally marred with blots. The spell- 



Boyhood. 19 

ing in these early letters leaves something to be de- 
sired, and evidently called forth reproof from the 
watchful father, followed by apology and improve- 
ment. This one, written on a visit, for the bene- 
fit of his health, in the country, shows a little 
longing for the comforts of home : 

New Ipswich, 18/// July. 

MoN CHER Pere : I now undertake to write you 
for the first time. I shall put it in a sort of journal, 
beginning — 

Monday. — When you left me, I went into Mr. 
Newell's, and read of the water - spout, etc., in his 
book of curiosities. After breakfast, I drew a little 
of that mill-view I got of Mr. Brown ; after which I 
mowed a little with my host, Sam, and another, but 
very poorly. After dinner, I helped them to get in an 
exceeding large load ; going into the barn, my head 
struck, very nearly, the beams, I being on top. I am 
as yet well pleased with my host and hostess, and 
hope to be contented. 

Tuesday. — I went for the first time to-day to that 
den of tyranny, a school. I recited a lesson in Sal- 
lust, and was pretty well worn out before I came 
home. This afternoon I stayed from school to write. 
... I do not think school did me much good to-day, 
and I don't want to stay there long. I long to see 



20 Thomas G, Applet on, 

you and the rest of the family, as I am rather tired 
of New Ipswich. 

I remain, your 

Ever-loving son, 

T. G. Appleton. 
P. S. — I hope to come home before a month is out. 

His next letter is more cheerful : 

New Ipswich, July iith. 

My Father : You can not conceive what pleas- 
ure I felt in reading your letter. I have been much 
better the last two days, which I am sure you will be 
glad to hear. We had two very affecting sernfions 
yesterday by a Mr. Danforth : the afternoon one was 
a funeral sermon ; the text was, " And there is no 
hope." He gave a very animating description of the 
torments of the sinner in hell, for whom there is no 
hope, upon whom the dark waves of eternity roll, 
tinged with the bitter wrath of the Almighty. 

On Saturday, I had a visit from Mr. Wallace, who 
offered to lend me any books he had, and invited me 
to come over and play chess with him, and showed 
beaucoiip de la politesse. I read " The Absentee," by 
Mrs. Edgeworth, and am reading " Clarentine." I 
have drawn as yet three pieces, one of them, for Sam, 
a scare -crow. The dog-days begin to-day, and it 
rains, and I feel rather dogmatic. I did not go to 



Boyhood, 2 1 

school this morning, but expect to this afternoon, 
although it rains. 

There is a postscript to this letter from his host- 
ess, in which she says : 

"I think Thomas's health is improving, and I 
should like to have him spend several weeks with us, 
as his company is very pleasant and agreeable. He 
submits to every inconvenience with cheerfulness, 
and I do not think it a task to have him here." 

In the boy were to be traced the germs of char- 
acteristics which in manhood became strongly marked. 
Shy and sensitive, for fear of being laughed at, he 
said and did things to turn the laugh upon him, that 
he might laugh himself with the rest. An original 
mind, a keen perception of the differences and like- 
nesses of objects animate and inanimate, a gift of 
comparing things most extreme, were born with him. 
His temper was quick, and his views of his own rights 
exacting, which put him at times at odds with his 
playmates ; but his good spirits and marvelous power 
of entertaining made him, even at an early age, a 
favorite companion. 

Vanity was lacking among his early traits of char- 
acter ; that love of praise and flattery, which leads 
boys to show off their accomplishments, was held in 



22 Thomas G, Applet on. 

check by a sensitive pride, born of fear of ridicule 
and doubt as to success. At Mr. Greene's school, 
however, and later, at the Latin School, he held a 
good rank in his classes, showing early a turn for lan- 
guage which served him always in good stead. 



CHAPTER III. 

ROUND HILL. 
1826. 

When Thomas was thirteen, in 1825, he was sent 
to the school at Round Hill, in Northampton, Massa- 
chusetts. He published, nearly fifty years afterward, 
his reminiscences of this famous school, where he 
passed three years. The fresh recollections he retained 
of the place are a proof of the good system employed 
there. 

Two American gentlemen, Mr. Joseph Green Cogs- 
well and Mr. George Bancroft, both scholars familiar 
with the educational systems of Germany, determined 
to attempt in their own country the experiment of a 
school on the Fellenberg plan. 

The institution of Fellenberg, at Hofwyl, in Switz- 
erland, was intended to combine thorough culture of 
mind with physical training. Situated within easy 
reach of Alpine peaks, whose white crests indented the 
horizon, it offered a perpetual promise of vacation 
climbing after diligent study. Not only the fascina- 



24 Thomas G. Appleton, 

tions of Alpine ascent, but the severer home discipline 
of the gymnasium, secured development for the physi- 
cal man, while careful attention was given to the rou- 
tine of study through training by books. 

Such double advantages, to boys of mental and 
physical growth, inside the school-house and in the 
open air, these American gentlemen were determined 
to obtain. Drawn by the laws of association and ex- 
ternal resemblance, they selected the beautiful emi- 
nence called Round Hill, near Northampton, for the 
site of the experiment. 

Their prospectus drew, like a magnet, boys from 
all parts of the country ; the school was opened in 
the autumn of 1823, and lasted about ten years. 

It was a new thing, full of life and vigor, sus- 
tained by the proved scholarship and genius of the 
historian Bancroft, and of the large staff of officers 
under him ; while its success was due, in great meas- 
ure, to the singular combination of admirable quali- 
ties possessed by Mr. Cogswell. He was a man who 
united the characteristics of the man of study and of 
action. His head, filled as it was with the learning 
of America and Europe, could not overbalance his 
generous large-heartedness ; he won completely, with- 
out attempting it in any manner, by the direct display 
of his own character, the respect and confidence of 
his scholars. At one time the boys must have num- 



Round Hill. 25 

bered as many as a hundred and fifty ; they came 
from almost every State in the Union. Not war, not 
distance, not time, could break the bond between 
them ; and the clasp which held them all was their 
reverence and affection for Mr. Cogswell. 

The relation of Mr. Cogswell with his scholars 
was peculiar. He was not by nature fitted for the 
austere duties of the schoolmaster. There was very 
little of Dionysius the tyrant in him, whose relish for 
the sufferings of young people intrusted to him has 
survived in nests of cruelty of the type of Dotheboys 
Hall. In fact, in no sense was there much of the 
mere schoolmaster in Mr. Cogswell. He regarded 
details of book-learning and study as but accessories 
to the larger intention of making the man and the 
gentleman. In the school-room, as on summer excur- 
sions, where he led off the procession, he was one of 
the party — a boy, though of larger growth and ma- 
turer experience ; by no means a Jupiter Tonans, 
frowning upon the rest from his raised platform. 

Indeed, his relation to the boys was scarcely even 

that of a teacher. He was the organizer, manager, 

and father of the community ; his department was 

that of affectionate moral influence ; besides which, 

he was head farmer, builder, gardener, and treasurer 

of the place. He loved his school, his boys, his 

Round Hill ; and pursued his plans of expansion 
3 



26 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

and embellishment in every direction, without much 
thought of profit or personal advantage. 

These duties were enough for one man, without 
the fatiguing details of instruction and recitation, 
which fell to the share of a large staff of teachers — 
German, French, Italian, and Spanish, as well as of 
young men fresh from our college-training — all under 
the able general supervision of Mr. Bancroft. 

The indirect influences of education are often 
overlooked. Many a scholar, many a noble genius, 
has contracted the habit of devotion to letters, with 
deficient love of the outer world. The outside influ- 
ences of Round Hill were, perhaps, the best part of it, 
and are certainly what its scholars loved and remem- 
bered the best. Let any one visit the lovely situation, 
and he will readily imagine how the converging influ- 
ences of such scenery acted upon the boys. 

At the foot of the eminence, shining through or- 
chard-bowers, was the then stately town of Jonathan 
Edwards, and over the rich distance were seen 
glimpses of the indolent circuit of the Connecticut 
River. Mount Holyoke, one of the few real mount- 
ains of Massachusetts, of noble outline and sufficient 
height, was ever encamped over against Round Hill, 
to stimulate imagination with desire and mystery. 

The area of Mr. Cogswell's domain was something 
like three quarters of a mile square ; its borders were 



Round Hill. 27 

known as " The Bounds," beyond which it was a 
pleasant wickedness to pass. The scholars were sore- 
ly tried, and did not fail frequently to violate the laws 
of limitation, for, on one side, under the hill, nestled 
hospitable roofs, and shops of succulent attraction for 
growing boyhood ; on the other, were noble woods 
peopled with game — squirrels of all colors, wood- 
chucks, rabbits, and even, very rarely, wild turkeys — 
to be hunted down leafy alleys, under majestic trees, 
which opened, to the ardent fancy of the boy, like 
vistas of the " Faerie Queen," where possibly a Una 
might be hid — one where surely glamour and enchant- 
ment reigned. 

Though limited usually by the bounds, the boys 
were permitted excursions both in summer and win- 
ter, sometimes with Dr. Graeter, an eccentric German 
drawing-teacher, to sketch the lovely scenery which 
abounded near the Hill. It was a delightful after- 
noon's occupation, frequently leading the young art- 
ists as far as the banks of the Licking-water. Some- 
times the doctor, as the boys called him, would leave 
them to sketch by themselves for a time. On one 
occasion a boy (perhaps Tom himself), profiting by 
this liberty, had enjoyed, with a party of his compan- 
ions, a glorious swim in the river. The only sketch 
which he had to show later to the doctor, as the re- 
sult of the afternoon, was the drawing of a palm-tree, 



28 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

which happened to be in his book. In broken Eng- 
lish and with much solemnity the doctor desired to 
be conducted to the tree. After taking the good man 
some distance, in the vain hope of tiring him out, the 
boy said the palm-tree was so far south, he feared 
they would not get back in time for supper. *' I 
should dink so," remarked the doctor, without mov- 
ing a muscle of his face, and they returned without 
visiting the palm. 

To bathe in the Licking-water, though it was, of 
course, not equal to the sea, was a great delight., So 
lucid was it that the bottom was everywhere visible. 
The sprays of over-arching trees touched and made 
music upon its surface, birds flew and sang overhead, 
scarcely was there a sign of man visible, and all 
seemed poetry and enchantment. Nor was the charm 
of the river diminished in winter, when, beneath the 
flawless ice, as through glass, were seen the pebbles 
below. To make a first impression upon its surface, 
to carve their initials with the sharp steel of their 
skates, was rapture to breathless flights of skimming 
boys, each seeking to outstrip the others. 

In midwinter, the boys were expected to study 
from six in the morning till breakfast-time, by candle- 
light, coming from warm beds to break ice in the pail 
for washing, often grinding their young cheeks against 
slabs of ice, as if they were so much soap. 



Round Hill, 29 

The zeal of Mr. Cogswell for his school led him 
to provide horses for the exercise of the boys, and in 
a cloud of cavalry they scoured the plain to the dis- 
tant banks of the Connecticut. Sefior San Martin, 
the Spanish teacher, v/ho accompanied them, was an 
accomplished horseman ; he rode, well seated, with 
depressed heel, and had all the look of a true cabal- 
lero. This professor had the typical pride and iras- 
cible temper of his nation. He was watchful for in- 
sult in certain mistranslations affected by the boys ; 
and when the Spanish word todos occurred, which he 
feared to hear rendered toads^ the expectant passion 
in his face was a wonder to behold. 

One of the great pleasures of the boys was a gar- 
den, a considerable bit of ground where many infant 
lessons were gained in farming. Most of the boys 
were as awkward with the roots of their flowers and 
vegetables, handling them in defiance of the laws of 
patient development, as they were with those tougher 
roots which fill the soil of Greek and Latin culture. 
An impatience of the growth of pease and peppers, 
cucumbers and melons, has always characterized the 
young farmer. The willingness of youth to see 
whether his bean or nasturtium may have taken root 
is the cause of a metaphor applying the process to 
the more tender sprouting of the affections ; Officious 
friends have been accused of pulling up many a half- 



30 Thomas G, Appleton. 

rooted attachment, in hope of discovering whether it 
was really fixed in the soil of the heart. 

A greater pleasure than the garden to the boys was 
the unexpected bliss, through the generosity of Mr. 
Cogswell, of being co-proprietors of a boy-town, not 
to be found on any map, which received the name of 
Crony Village. Its site was a sloping hill, running 
downward to a brook. Bricks and mortar were fur- 
nished, beams and boards, and the little colony was 
constructed by the boys themselves, generally divided 
into families of two. Soon the evening smokq as- 
cended from many hearths, round which the inmates 
of these happy homes were seated, reading or playing 
friendly games, or devouring, with a relish no after- 
meals could give, Carolina potatoes drawn from the 
ashes — each an ingot of pure gold, with added gold 
of butter ; game, such as squirrels, the spoil of the 
bow, or rabbits caught in traps ; to which were some- 
times surreptitiously added pies and doughnuts, 
brought in mysterious raids from distant taverns and 
farm-houses. 

All such delights have but their day. After a time 
Crony Village was found not to work well ; the raids 
for pies and doughnuts were regarded with disfavor by 
the authorities, and the boys heard with anguish, from 
Mr. Cogswell's lips, the agonizing words, " ' Delenda est 
Carthago^ Crony Village shall be no more ! *' A com- 



Round Hill. 31 

mittee of destroyers, chosen from among the boys 
themselves, was appointed by Mr. Cogswell to do the 
work. With heavy hearts they proceeded on their fatal 
errand, under the magnificent chestnuts, which seemed 
to wave in sympathy with their woe, and soon all the 
work of their hands was destroyed. So deep was their 
reverence and respect for Mr. Cogswell that even this 
great calamity was accepted as a thing not only in- 
evitable, but just ; and they could bear to see without 
flinching the carious hollows along the hill where their 
dwellings had been. 

Mr. Cogswell's theory was one of guidance. Such 
occasional departures from right as became human 
nature were punished by loss of privileges, depriva- 
tion of play-time, or degradation to a lower form in 
the school-room, even by expulsion, but never by vio- 
lence : he occasionally threatened, when the sinful ele- 
ment predominated, to bring the boys into the slavish 
routine and military subjection of West Point ; but it 
was only a threat, and the boys knew it. There was in 
use, however, one mysterious punishment for Titanic 
breaches of authority which impressed the school 
through its grandeur. This was the " Dungeon," in 
which the most refractory subjects were sometimes 
put. Through accident and infirmity even the most 
beloved and orderly boys would sometimes manage 
to get in, under some strain of their irrepressible na- 



32 Thomas G. Appleton, 

tures, in which, according to the Calvinistic belief, as 
in bottled ginger-beer, a thousand original sins were 
always ready to pop forth. 

In the main, the male sex predominated on the 
Hill. The masters were men, the boys were little 
men, and woman was a rara avis in terra. But one 
room there held two functionaries without whom no 
boy's life can be complete. 

Mrs. Ryder supplied to him a little the place of 
his mother ; by her cozy fireside he found something 
of the old home feeling, and could ease the choking 
homesickness that at times must rise in his throat. 
In her room were no turbulence, no competition, only 
woman's sympathy and tender care. Mrs. Ryder may 
well have wondered why the boys loved her so much, 
but she half understood it at least. She felt expanded 
in her motherly nature until she could embrace with 
something of a mother's tenderness so large a family, 
and this well-spring of affection made green the waste 
places of her life. In her room was the boy allowed 
to sit, and say and ask those things which could not 
be said elsewhere. In her hospitable shovel could be 
run the lead for the tops of feathered arrows, and 
hatchets whose edge was not of the finest. She could 
say nay to no wish of the boys. 

Behind, in the background, her rosy daughter stood 
for them all as an ideal of womanhood. She had less 



Round HilL 2>Z 

to say to the boys than her mother, but distance and 
withdrawal did not lessen their devotion. Once the 
elderly woman was taken with a fever, to the great 
grief of the school. Daily messages of love were sent 
to her which the daughter returned through her tears. 
Just as she was expected to die, Mrs. Ryder had a 
vision of one of the boys standing with a glass of soda 
in a certain place by her bed. The boy was told of it, 
procured the soda, and gave her, standing as the vision 
indicated, the refreshing draught ; after taking it, she 
immediately recovered. 

The organ of nourishment is something marvelous 
in its demands. The man looks back upon his youth- 
ful appetite which is a part of the boy's ardor, in- 
nocence, and activity, with reverence and envy. In 
young puppies, and other browsing and feeding ani- 
mals when young, he sees something of the energy of 
that youthful mastication. In the boy, as in the pup- 
py, food seems instantly to be converted into fresh 
life, so that there is always a yawning void which no 
amount of ordinary meals can fill up. In vain does 
he throw into the abyss peanuts, maple-sugar, and all 
the foreign fascinations of the grocer's shop — semper 
atque recurrit. 

Nothing could be less like Mr. Squeers's table than 
the generous board of the Round-Hillers. It was one 
of the habits of the school to prescribe occasionally at 



34 Thomas G. Applet on, 

meals conversation in various modern languages ; but 
over that trivial barrier the hound-like appetite of the 
boy could easily leap. No Spanish difficulty in ren- 
dering "doughnuts," or apple-pie, kept him long from 
those dainties. 

Twice a week there was cake for tea. The boys, 
in playing marbles, after losing to cleverer players 
their superb "blood-alleys," would pledge in advance 
on the issue of the game their cake of many cake-days 
ahead. It was distressing to see these victims of bad 
luck or skill surrendering to one haughty victor, the 
cake of weeks ! 

This not morbid, most healthy, and animal hunger 
of the boys found a dangerous gratification in parcels 
of goodies placed by naughty carpenters and work- 
men, willing to accept money from the boys, in cachets 
agreed upon beforehand. Sometimes, too, the sim- 
plicity of a boy would induce him to procure from a 
town friend a box of fabulous attraction : guava, heavy 
and luscious in its filmy boxes ; prunes, purple and 
pretentious, with mystical French titles upon the corks ; 
gingerbread — with tenderness and aroma ever de- 
creasing, until it became but a chestnut sawdust ; pre- 
served peaches, huge fans of raisins, looking like those 
of Eshcol. Such boxes were always seized by the 
authorities and confiscated on their way to the person 
whose name they bore. Too often, with heavy heart, 



Round HilL 35 

he would be allowed to look beyond the lifted lid 
upon the treasures that were denied him. At the end 
of the term he was allowed to recover his spoil, and 
to divide it among his friends. This was mostly a 
funereal pleasure, as only a few of the things, such as 
squares of chocolate, were none the worse for keeping. 

The most distinctive element of the school, bor- 
rowed from the Fellenberg system, was the annual 
journey of the boys. They went with horses and 
wagons, " ride and tie," not to fatigue the weak ones. 
Cities were visited, villas of friends admired and ex- 
amined, rivers crossed, until at last the little army 
found itself encamped upon a great water, Long Island 
Sound, at Saybrook, being usually the farthest point 
reached. A comfortable fishing-smack was provided 
for them, and many were the specimens of marine life 
that flopped and fluttered upon its deck. 

All sorts of sports were encouraged as well as fish- 
ing, and the woods around Round Hill furnished an 
abundance of wild creatures for the exercise of skill in 
shooting. The huge chestnut-trees literally swarmed 
with squirrels, red and gray ; the chipmunk, or, as the 
Southern boys used to call him, "fence-mouse," was 
too tame to be counted as game. In summer evenings 
the flying-squirrel might be seen floating from tree to 
tree. Rabbits and woodchucks were to be trapped j 
but the birds — robins, blue-jays, woodpeckers, among 



36 Thomas G, Appleton, 

them the superb yellow-hammer, and kingfisher — fell 
before the arrow. The bows were made of ash, with 
arrows of hickory ; their heads, tipped with steel points 
or sharpened cones of tin, would often go clean through 
a squirrel or a robin. Much of this game served for 
the repasts of Crony Village. 

Mixed with this dawn-flash of animal spirits, be- 
hind these bounding pulses, unspoken of, were work- 
ing outward the religious, immortal germs of inner 
life. Many a journal, blotted by tears, received the 
heart-agony, the aspirations, the longings which none 
suspected. 

The respect and reverence which the boys felt for 
Mr. Cogswell were entwined with a feeling, softer and 
tenderer, of true affection. Many years afterward all 
the surviving scholars of Round Hill were summoned 
to meet at a dinner in honor of their beloved teacher, 
given at the Parker House in Boston. Several of the 
instructors of the school, and all the "boys" who 
could come, were present. Again the old sunshine of 
the master's countenance beamed upon his children, 
and the old memories were revived. Old anecdotes 
of boyish pranks, old nicknames, came to the surface ; 
gray-bearded men were again restored to boyhood by 
the spirit of the hour. 

After Mr. Cogswell's death, which occurred in 
187 1, his surviving scholars united to erect over his 



Round Hill. 37 

grave a simple monument, in affectionate remem- 
brance of their teacher. In speaking of it, Mr. Apple- 
ton says : 

" As they look across that grave, from the sunset 
of their lives, they will see through the interval of 
years, bright with success or dark with sorrow and 
bereavement, their old master, their old school-days, 
themselves moving through the dilation of the crim- 
son mists of morning. Everything then will be ideal- 
ized, and that unfulfilled promise, which earth can not 
keep, may be to them dearer than the conquests which 
years have won for them, or the fugitive successes of 
life's arena." 



CHAPTER IV. 

ROUND HILL LETTERS, 
1827. 

During the three years he was at Round Hill, 
Thomas wrote regularly and with great frankness to 
his father. Many of these letters have been preserved, 
their style advancing from that of a child to one of 
maturer thought. 

In the first one he describes his masters and stud- 
ies, and then adds : 

" I am building a house, which makes a pretty 
respectable appearance, in Crony Village. ... I have 
been perfectly well since I came. As to my spirits, I 
am in as good as I could expect away from home. I 
want my sled, and I want all of you to write me often." 

He was not long to enjoy the house. He writes : 

January 15, 1826. 

. . . Just before I wrote this, Mr. Cogswell de- 
clared that which will materially injure the happiness 



Round Hill Letters, 39 

of the boys, which is, that our houses, or caverns, as 
he terms them, must be abandoned, and destroyed 
immediately. The reason is this : Mr. C has fre- 
quently observed certain boys to be absent from meals. 
He soon suspected something, and at last discovered 
the whole affair, by his cunning and sagacity, which 
is this : The boys, for their greater accommodation at 
their houses, have by stealth purchased sundry articles 
of the people in the neighborhood, and thus became 
acquainted with them, and went to their houses. Some 
of the articles were these : sausages, flour, potatoes, 
apples, etc. He stated that he considered it inconsist- 
ent with his duty to permit them to do things that he 
knew their parents would disapprove, and to prevent 
which he took them under his charge, and he made 
quite a long speech to us in the evening. Mr. Cogs- 
well has a penetration and knowledge of human na- 
ture, with the like quality I hardly ever saw any man 
endowed. He possesses a wonderful awe over the 
boys, and there is hardly any boy who can conceal a 
lie or deceit from him. I have several instances of 
his cunning. I will relate one : One unpleasant and 
moist evening he told the boys he thought that it was 
unsafe to go down to their houses, and therefore for- 
bade it. Some few, either not understanding him, or 
from a motive not so good, went down there. He, al- 
though one would think he would be detained by 



40 Thomas G. Appleton. 

some more important business, and the unpleasantness 
of the weather, but still under the bare chance of find- 
ing some, went, and surprised them all in their holes. 
In one of the houses they were enjoying themselves 
on a pudding of their own make, little expecting such 
a visit. Hearing him knock, and thinking he was a 
boy, they opened the door. How greatly he and they 
were astonished, and how soon the pudding went under 
the bench, I leave you to imagine. Saturday evening 
presented a dismal sight. About thirty houses were 
utterly destroyed from the face of the earth, and their 
inmates sent forth to mourn for the loss of their prop- 
erty. The destroyers came, and that which was before 
a flourishing village, rapidly increasing in houses and 
inhabitants, was soon reduced to nothing but a heap 
of ruins. And all this destruction was perpetrated by 
only two emissaries of Mr. Cogswell, except those 
houses that were destroyed by the voluntary despair 
of their owners. Here one could see the remnant of 
a roof, and there a smoking pile of boards. The axe 
and club first demolished the houses, and then fire 
was applied to consign them forever to oblivion. But 
enough of this. 

In the same letter he tells what he is studying : 

As I believe you have not heard much concern- 
ing the books that I study, I will now inform you. In 



Round Hill Letters. 41 

Latin I am advanced about six sections in the 
second Catiline oration ; in French, I study Louis 
XIV and Mr. Hentse's * French Reader * ; in arith- 
metic, I am half through Colburn's * Sequel ' ; and 
in Spanish, I am getting along pretty fast, study- 
ing * Colmena Espafiola,' que es un libro de las 
piezas escogidas de varios autores EspanoleSy par F. 
Sales. 

As the cold weather prevailed, T. G. was still 
anxious to have his sled " Nimble Dick " sent to 
him from Boston. His father seems to have made 
some objections, for the son writes : 

February 5, 1826. 
... I do not think your arguments against send- 
ing up my sled are very powerful. In the first place, 
you say it is not worth while to send wood into the 
country ; but you must know that what most consti- 
tutes a good sled is the ironSy and that it should run 
several years to be as good as mine ; therefore, you see 
that we boys can neither make irons nor good sleds ; 
as to the skates, we can not get good ones up here, as 
they are all quite low and poor ; and my poor skates 
have received a mortal blow beyond repair, as both 
the iron and wood are broken. So I present my peti- 
tion a second time, hoping that you may pardon my 
boldness. 



42 Thomas G. Applet on. 

He goes on : 

I am rather surprised at your not mentioning any- 
thing about coming up yourself ; nevertheless, I must 
remember that '''' patientia omnia vincity 

This school has done a good deal of good to me 
as to my manners, etc. ; for, as you know, it is com- 
posed of boys from all quarters of the Union, as we 
have some from almost every State ; and, on that 
account, the customs, phrases, and appearance of us 
Yankees seem strange to them ; as likewise the. flat 
dialect and strange pronunciation of the letter a by 
the Southerners seem disagreeable to our ears. On 
account of these dissimilitudes we are constantly quiz- 
zing one another ; but I am sensible that the poor 
Yankees have the worst of it, as the whole school, 
masters and all, are constantly mentioning our faults 
— for instance, the pronunciation of been, ben, while it 
ought to be pronounced bin^ the adding the letter r to 
several words that want it, and not pronouncing the 
ing in participles, and many other Boston peculiarities. 
The effect these things have had on me is to mend my 
pronunciation, cause me to walk straighter than be- 
fore, and pay greater attention to neatness, which I 
am deficient in. 

Your affectionate son, 

T. G. Appleton. 



Round Hill Letters. 43 

Here is the whole of a letter written at this time : 

March I2, 1826. 

My dear Father : On Friday evening I received 
your much expected and wished-for packet. I could 
not read it as soon as I wished, as a rather ludicrous 
circumstance was going on ; for two boys were tried 
by the other boys for whispering, and convicted, and 
as in the evening their punishment was to stand up 
half an hour, the uproar the boys made prevented me 
from its perusal then. But when I did it was with the 
greatest pleasure, as the cash was sufficient, and the 
matter good. 

At first I could not imagine what the packet could 
contain, and I was m.uch gratified in seeing what it 
was (and, indeed, I wish you would send me more 
newspapers and pamphlets than you do). I have read 
a good deal in it, and think it excellent, just as I 
should think Mr. Channing would write. I think the 
first half is the best ; I mean by that what I under- 
stand the clearest, and written with most spirit and 
beauty. I like very much his comparison between 
Johnson and Milton, and his description of " Paradise 
Lost," which I intend to read. 

On Friday the sun shone for the first time since 
eleven days, awakening me from my drowsy slumbers 
rather earlier than usual, and by its cheerful smile ex- 



44 Thomas G. Appleton, 

citing in every heart mild feelings of buoyancy and 
delight, which the former dark and dismal days had 
suppressed. 

It was a fine day, and all the boys valued it the 
more, it being so rare to have a pleasant Saturday. 
Now at six o'clock, where three months ago we needed 
lights, the sunshine is as bright as at midday. 

I have performed a feat worthy of being under- 
taken by Hercules, for I have asked Mr. B that 

question you desired me to about the elephant and 
the serpent ; for the other day, as we were going from 
school to breakfast, I lagged behind to meet Mr. Ban- 
croft, and when I asked him he smiled (this shows, 
by-the-by, how near his brain is to the end of his 
tongue), for, before I had hardly finished, he said : 
**The author, I believe, is Pliny ; but," said he, "I will 
write your father about it." But I doubt if he will. 
For my part, I can not see anything applicable to our 
question in Pliny, unless he refers to the immense 
serpent, supposed to have been a boa, on the coast of 
Africa, that obstructed the passage of Regulus and his 
army : the snake was so tough and large that Regulus 
was obliged to bring his battering-ram and machines 
against it, as in besieging a city ; at length he van- 
quished it, and sent parts of it to Rome as trophies. 

I can't help giving you an account of a walk I took 
yesterday afternoon, the most interesting I have had 



Round Hill Letters. 45 

here. With three other boys, as the day was beauti- 
ful, and the balmy air and waving trees, together with 
the holiday, invited us to walk : we set out over the 
back of the Hill ; we crossed fields verdant with ever- 
green and rendered pleasant by the warbling of the 
birds and the beauty of the distant scenery, till at last 
we arrived at a beautiful wood of pines, and there we 
started the project of walking to the Licking- water. 
*Twas no sooner proposed than undertaken ; we crossed 
fences and woods, till at last we scarcely knew where 
we were, leaping brooks, and pushing through thick 
woods. After about half an hour's walking we began 
to think we must be near the stream, and presently we 
ascended a small hill and saw before us a steep bank, 
and could catch through the waving pines glimpses of 
the river. We descended the bank by the assistance 
of twigs and decayed trunks, overthrown by some tem- 
pest, till at last we found ourselves on the brink of 
the river, enjoying one of the finest scenes I ever be- 
held. I sprang on a rock to enjoy it better. We could 
trace the river with our eyes to some extent both up 
and down, rolling over rocks with a harmonious sound 
which together with the sweet sighing of the lofty 
pines, agitated by the gentle breeze, formed such rav- 
ishing contrasts that it seemed as if I could sit for- 
ever there and enjoy the enchanting scene. The pict- 
ure was beautiful, the water here tumbling over the 



46 Tko7nas G. Appleton, 

rocks in small falls, there hurrying along over a smooth 
bottom, sometimes green, at others of a dirty hue ; now 
and then a huge oak or pine rooted up by the mount- 
ain-blast lay across the water, forming a natural 
bridge, or draggling in the stream that foliage which 
before had kissed the skies. I could fill a letter with 
the account of this walk, but as, unfortunately, my 
paper is full, I remain affectionately your son, 

Thomas. 

May 28, 1826. 

The gardens come along pretty well, and every 
day the old saying of "ill weeds grow apace" is proved 

to be true. Mr. C says he does not remember 

the time when weeds and ants did so much damage ; 
and it is true, for my melons, radishes, pepper-grass, 
everything is prostrated before the gripe of this ruth- 
less invader. The whole artillery and strength of lime 
and ashes thunders impotent upon the head of the 
common enemy. They continue to advance, and un- 
less the hand of Providence quickly brings relief, there 
will not be a vegetable fit to be seen in the whole 
garden. 

I expect to begin to ride before long, for now al- 
most every Saturday Mr. Cogswell takes some boys 
to ride with him. The bow is now the principal im- 
plement of play among the boys, and almost every 



Round Hill Letters, 47 

one has one. Bathing is one of the things I like best 
of all the summer amusements, it is so cooling and — I 
must stop, for the sounds, " T. G. ! " from the mouth of 
Mr. Bancroft, vibrate upon my ear. It is very strange 
that twice lately, just as I was finishing a letter, I 
should have been interrupted by the agreeable sum- 
mons — " A letter for you, T. G. ! " — but so it is. 

The summer vacation was passed at home, and a 
second school-year entered upon. Thomas writes : 

January 21, 1827. 

It would seem, dear father, that the late cold 
weather had frozen the communication between us, as 
neither of us has written or received any letters for 
some time. The cold here is extreme, the sleighing is 
remarkably fine, and has been for some time. . . . 

Lately I have got very high in Mr. Bancroft's fa- 
vor, and he has given me many flattering testimonials 
of it — taking me sleigh-riding with him, inviting me 
to his room, with many other marks of favor. I think 
I can trace it to my themes. He told me the other 
day that, as I wrote so well, he wanted exceedingly 
to make me a perfect writer ! He also asked me to 
write him a poetical theme ; and I have written one, 
but there are many lines of false metre. I have a 
good mind to send it to you, but you must remember 
that it is not finished off yet. 



48 Thomas G. Appleton, 

THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 

I. 

Proud bird of my country, to thee I sing; 

To the Muses I call for aid. 
Thou art borne aloft on the whirlwind's wing, 

In thunder and darkness arrayed. 

2. 

Undaunted thou look'st on the sun's red glare, 
And viewest the earth with scorn, 

As thou sailest on high through regions of air, 
Or dartest gayly along. 

3- 
Thou buildest thy nest on the mountain's cliff, 

Or skimmest along the main ; 
And hailest afar the adventurous skiff — 

Forever thou art the same. 

4. 
When war's crimson hand our land bathed in gore, 

Oh ! then thou left'st thy repose ; 
When foreign invaders encumbered our shore, 

And slavery threatened its woes : 

5- 
When kindred met kindred in battle's rude shock, 

Thou hovered over our head ; 
Then thy broad wings were our nation's firm rock, 

Or a shelter to the unfortunate dead. 

6. 

When Mars, red with blood, had quitted the field. 
And Britain had recrossed the sea, 



Round Hill Letters. 49 

Victory by your presence you joyfully sealed — 
Oh, joyful may victory be ! 

7. 
And now the strife's over, our vows we will make 

On the altar to Liberty's form ; 
And long in our memory may thy look live. 

Which watched us in battle and storm ! 

My new clothes please me very much. They are 
made very well, and the color suits me to a T. 

Your affectionate son, 

T. G. A. 

This juvenile, patriotic effort is ornamented by a 
huge penmanship eagle, such- as is the delight of the 
writing-master, the admiration and terror alike of the 

unskilled pupil. 

Februaty 8, 1827. 

Dear Father : Mrs. G has arrived. After 

supper at her house, as we were alone, I suppose 

she meant to give me a verbal chastising. She asked 

me if I had read Mr. Channing's sermon in New York 

(which, by-the-way, I want you to send up). I replied 

in the negative, but said I supposed it was excellent, 

as the rest of his publications are. She smiled, and 

said she liked the style, but not the sentiments. She 

seemed to think Mr. Channing a bad man, who did 

not act conscientiouslv. This led to religion ; her argu- 
5 



50 Thomas G. Applet on, 

ments seemed to lead to disputation. I had to reply, 
and as they were such as are generally objected to our 
sect, and such as, in our conversations on the sub- 
ject, I have often heard you refute, I found it easy to 
answer them ; and I fancy her victory was not so 
easily obtained as she expected, or rather she ob- 
tained no victory at all, for I answered all her argu- 
ments, and even asked her to explain some passages, 
till at last the entrance of some one put an end to the 
conversation. She seemed to think that a good Indian, 
who, guided by the light of nature and of conscience, 
did his best, would not be rewarded ; and that no 
conscientious Christian of another sect than her own 
would be saved ! She pardoned all other sects but the 
Unitarians ; she said they sapped the root of Chris- 
tianity, that they took away all hope, etc. And what 
surprised me most was that, while she was complain- 
ing that Mr. Channing railed at her sect too badly, she 
herself was caviling us terribly. Do not think that I 
mean this as a display of my vanity, but to fill up the 
letter, and make it altogether entre nous. 

Mrs. Ryder was extremely pleased with her gown, 
and praised it above all the other presents she had ; 
and was quite surprised to hear that it was an Ameri- 
can production. I was really glad to see the joy tes- 
tified by the old lady. It must have come in good 
season, as the doctor's bill would require all her 



Round Hill Letters, 51 

spare cash, and make it rather inconvenient to buy- 
gowns. 

The illness referred to here made a deep impres- 
sion upon the boys, all of whom regarded the matron 
with an affection transferred in part from their moth- 
ers* share. 

March i8, 1827. 

Mr. Bancroft has had a fine ball, of which I sup- 
pose you have heard. He invited two hundred peo- 
ple ; but not so many came. Out of the school-boys 
only about eight were invited, but I was among this 
favored few. But the worst of it is that, while every 
one was congratulating me on my good luck, I had 
the fate to be racked with a wretched headache which 
incapacitated me from going. So I had to sit down 
in a corner of Mrs. Ryder's room, moping while the 
sounds of joy and revelry rang in my ears, of which I 
might partake if it were not for my headache. Never- 
theless, the quiet of the old lady's room soothed my 
pains and before long it almost went off. . . . Mrs. 
Ryder told me her husband was the most industrious 
of three brothers, yet he was always unfortunate, and 
they prosperous ; to use the old lady's expression, his 
brothers would put a fourpence into their pockets and 
go to sleep, and in the morning it would be a bright 
ninepence ; while her husband would put a fourpence 
in his pocket, and work, and yet lose it ! 



52 Thomas G. Applet on. 

I shall depart hence, I believe, a week from next 
Wednesday. Huzza! Your affectionate son, 

T. G. Appleton, 

with a fine flourish. His writing was much improving 

at this time, and already bore the characteristics of 

his later hand. 

July 6, 1827. 

Our 4th of July was a very pleasant one. Our 
mathematical master, Mr. Walker, was the orator of 
the day. His speech equaled if not excelled that of 
Mr. Bancroft, and he was warmly congratulated by his 
friends on his success. He committed the whole of it 

to memory (O labor ^ sudor que f)^ but Mr. B read 

nearly all his. In the evening we took tea, as is cus- 
tomary, in a meadow shut out from vulgar gaze, and 
decorated with arbors lined with cakes crowned with 
flowers, and glittering with gold and sugar, the volun- 
tary labor of the village matrons. Mr. B was gay 

and Mr. W " bore his blushing honors thick upon 

him." From lack of acquaintances, we Round-Hill- 
ers were rather taciturn. We drank our coffee in 
haste, fearing the coming shower. 

'* Sky lowered and muttering thunder, and some sad drops 
wept," 

at our festivity. We, however, escaped to the hall, fur- 
nished for a ball (to which I also was invited), before 



Round Hill Letters, 53 

the rain fell fast. I danced a little, but soon got out 
of partners, and went home rather early, the night 
being as dark as pitch. 

I received a letter from L. Motley lately, and he 
states that they have about got through their studies 
at his school, and that the vacation will begin in 
about three weeks, which he fears will be a great 
bore ! I have not so poor an opinion of mine, I 
assure you. 

P. S. — Tell mother I have finished " St. Valentine's 
Day," and like it very much. I was surprised it agreed 
so much with history. 

It was the custom at Round Hill to give holidays 
in the spring, and many of the boys went home at that 
time for a joyful visit to their parents and families. 
Traveling from Boston to Northampton in those days 
was not without its difficulties, as is shown by the fol- 
lowing letter, describing the return to Round Hill : 

April 26, 1827. 
We have, my dear father, been neither killed nor 
wounded, and yet we have experienced all the evils we 
well could have met with. We went as far as Worces- 
ter, as you know, with the Governor, and the only evil 
we had till then was that it rained ; but my bag was 
not wet, as it was under cover. We had a tolerably 



54 Thomas G, Apple ton. 

good dinner at Brookfield, but after that misfortunes 
were showered thick enough. In the first place, as we 
were packing the stage, my box being treated rather 
roughly, swelled with rage, the effect of which was 
that the top came off, and out fell a pair of shoes et 
alias res. I had to leave it at the tavern, to be sent on 
by the mail next morning. When we got agoing, we 
underwent the miseries of a full stage (it containing 
twelve), a hard rain (which wet my bag, it being on 
top, which I could not prevent), a muddy road, and 
lazy horses. I believe I saw a beaver, and Mrs. Wat- 
son corroborated my opinion. We plodded along as 
well as we could and reached Round Hill about eight. 
As we entered the gate we gave three cheers, which 
were echoed back by one hundred roaring boys. Look- 
ing out of the window, I could discern nothing but 
heads, and the air was rent with shouts. Charles, on 
descending the steps of the stage, was greeted with a 
stare and " Who's that ? " so that the poor boy was 
very much amazed. We put everything in order that 
night and this morning, and though it rained all the 
time, Charles evinces no symptoms of homesickness, 
and we are perfectly well. 

Charles Sedgwick Appleton was two years younger 
than Thomas. This was his first appearance at Round 
Hill, where he now shared the room of his brother, 



Round Hill Letters. 55 

and soon became initiated in the routine of work and 
play. 

The next letter from Thomas contains a confes- 
sion : 

June 17, 1827, 

Dear Father : I have nothing pleasant to com- 
municate, and the reason I have written this before 
the time is, that I have an occurrence to relate, viz. : 
R. Apthorp has sent me a box, by my wish, contain- 
ing sundry articles, pour manger^ etc., which the boys 

have often received before, and Mr. C has made 

no objections. But he took this in great dudgeon, and 
said I should not have the box ; and, I believe, said 
he should send it to you ; so you may expect it in a 

few days. . . . 

June 24, 1827. 

I have received yours of the 19th, and I admit all 
you said concerning my recent adventure to be per- 
fectly just. I own I acted very foolishly in sending 
for them ; but boys are apt to do in one minute what 
they repent of the next. But, if you were here, you 
would allow that it is very agreeable to have a few 
things to satisfy that hunger which I often feel, with- 
out being able to allay it. 

This must have been the box which, fifty years 
later, Mr. Appleton still remembered vividly enough- 
to describe in his Round Hill reminiscences. 



56 Thomas G. Appleton, 

July 22, 1827. 
My dear Father : . . . You asked me to write 
you concerning my studies. In Latin, I study Virgil, 
Livy, and " Elegantiae Latinae," each two days in the 
week. I am well enough in this department. In 
mathematics, I have reviewed Colburn's *' Sequel," 
and now study Legendre's " Geometry." If I am to 
go to college, I ought to review Euler's "Algebra," 
which I shall not have time to do. In Greek, I am 
only half through Greek " Reader," and, to go to col- 
lege, I ought to know all that perfectly, and some- 
thing of the Testament. I study Spanish, but not 
French any longer, because I have to give more time 
to college-studies. Dr. Graeter takes his scholars in 
drawing now and then off the Hill, to draw from Na- 
ture, which is very agreeable. I have taken one or 
two views, and shall take several more. We are going 
to have an exhibition, at which I am to speak. 

To this year probably belongs an (undated) letter 
written in Spanish, well expressed and fairly gram- 
matical. At the end of it he says : 

" No debes considerar esta carta corta, car he 
ocupado mucho tiempo en escribiendola, y me ha 
causado scahere caput como dice mi amigo Horatius. 
Tenemos ahora un veritable Francese, maestro di 
danza quien antiquamente deba lecciones d las hijas 



Round Hill Letters, 57 

del gobernador del Canidad ; piense que es abajo su 
dignidad de tocar el violin su mismo ; por este razon 
ha alquilado un negro para tocar en su lugar." 

The question of entering college was now under 
discussion. It would seem that Mr. Bancroft ad- 
vised Thomas to try for entering in the autumn of 
1827, although he had not been preparing for exami- 
nation through the year. His intimate friend John 
Lothrop Motley was to go to Harvard, and Thomas 
strongly inclined to begin his course there at the same 
time. In the end, however, he stayed another year at 
Round Hill, studying for examination at Cambridge, 
to join Motley's class — the class of 1831 — in their 
sophomore year. 

Accordingly, he returned to Northampton after the 
summer vacation, with the usual mishaps en route. 

Round Hill, September 9, 1827. 
The first part of my journey, my dear father, was 
by no means agreeable ; for, in the first place, before 
we had got out of Boston (for it took an hour to get 
out) the transient (or transle) bolt broke. We soon 
remedied that, and we were going along rather slowly, 
when suddenly, crash ! down came the stage, and the 
wheel rolled across the road. We were an hour fixing 
it, for the man had to go back to the last house, and 
get flax and twine, etc., to tie the wheel up with. 



58 Thomas G, Appleton, 

After some time we proceeded, with fear and trem- 
bling, four miles, when we got another stage. We 
were going on at a brisk rate, to make up for lost 
time, when suddenly, crash ! down we came from our 
elevation, and we found that the main beam, passing 
under the stage, was shivered. The driver carried 
back this stage, and returned with the one we had 
before. These were all the break-downs we had, and 
these happened within fifteen miles of Boston. They 
were caused by the immense quantity of baggage pos- 
sessed by a lady going to Albany. 

The winter of 182 7-* 2 8 was devoted to hard study, 
especially in Greek ; " dashing on," he says, " in Ho- 
mer at the rate of eleven knots an hour — blinding 
Miss Polly Phemus, sacking cities, falling in love with 
goddesses with the greatest celerity." 

Exercise was not neglected : 

Mr. C , in his bounty, has put me in a class 

which rides every other day on horseback. This 
recreation to boys of my age is particularly pleasing, 
and, I assure you, I take no little delight in it. Al- 
though I have not practiced, save on our White 
Mountain pony, yet I found I could ride well enough. 
The horses here are very good ones, and, though they 
have thrown three or six fellows, yet they have slain 
no one. 



Round Hill Letters, 59 

P. S. — Mr. Cogswell has made an invention quite 
ingenious — squirrel-power. Two gray squirrels turn a 
wheel, which communicates with another which turns 
a coffee-mill ! In this way he grinds all his coffee. 
Quite a snug device, is it not ? 

The last letter preserved from Round Hill is 
dated 

July 27, 182&. 

Dear Father : A growling thunder-storm, accom- 
panied with his noisy and glaring attendants, kept the 
night in continual uproar, to the detriment of light 
sleepers. Notwithstanding the commotion of the pre- 
ceding night, all Nature received rising Aurora with 
sweetest smiles, and everything promises not only a 
fair, but, I fear, even a hot day. 

At the beginning of the past week a bright galaxy 
of wisdom and learning was assembled here. Dr. Ware 
preached, and Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland stayed here 
several days. Mr. Bancroft invited us collegians to 
his house Monday evening, where these and many 
more literati were assembled to be introduced to the 
inierrex^ Dr. Ware. We found the object of our visit 
and our host absent, and we were introduced by our 
fair hostess to the ex-president, but got no chance of 
being introduced to Mr. Ware. 

You want to know when I shall come. At the 



6o Thomas G, Appleton. 

soonest in a fortnight from last night, perhaps a few 
days later. 

You, thinking yourself rather in the dark as re- 
gards my erroreniy demand, and shall have, a little 
more light on the subject. Transgressing the bounds 
(never assigned to us) has not been punished or no- 
ticed for a long time. Seeing everybody round me 
continually practicing it, and seeing and hearing no 
notice taken of it, I naturally concluded that it could 
be nothing very sinful, for the vice through frequency 
lost half its ugliness. I feel that I can plead " up'on 
this argument." If it be a sin, it is one of no very 
dark complexion. Mr. C has a custom of mak- 
ing rules he never tells us of, and I have committed 
several of these petty crimes. Having thus shown that 
I committed a sin whose heinousness I was ignorant 
of, one that has been commonly practiced and com- 
monly winked at, I will leave the subject, stating only 
that I think the picking of berries by one unconscious 
of crime is pardonable, and I hope it will be so to 
you. 

I think of sending my books down before my own 
appearance ; so you need not be puzzled by the arrival 
of an old pine chest and a rat-eaten trunk next week. 
Love to all, and pleasant times. 

I remain, yours, affectionately, 

Thomas. 



Round Hill Letters. 6i 

P. S. — Father, if you stumble on a room that I can 
have, out of college, I should be agreeably surprised 
by your engaging it when I return. 

Here the boy -life ends, with the close of the 
Round Hill period. Thomas entered Harvard in the 
autumn of 1828. The full letters he had been in 
the habit of writing to his father stop here for a 
time, as Cambridge was too near home to make cor- 
respondence necessary. 



CHAPTER V. 

COLLEGE-LIFE. 
1828-1832. 

Thomas entered Harvard College as a sophomore 
in the autumn of 1828, joining the class which was to 
graduate in 1831. He found already on the field sev- 
eral old Latin school classmates, and some of his 
Round Hill friends, who had entered, freshmen, the 
year before. 

The greater part of his college course was passed 
in rooms in the old Brattle House, still standing, but 
his first room was in another place. His first estab- 
lishment and subsequent removal are spoken of in his 
letters to his brother Charles, who had returned alone 
to Round Hill for another year. 

Cambridge, September 8, 1828. 

... I will try to give you some idea of my room 

and situation at present. Figure to yourself a large, 

neat, well-papered, four-windowed room, in a light 

retired house, on the second story, and you have a 



College-L ife. 6 3 

picture of it in its naked state. Fill it up with a table 
covered with a green cloth, a desk, and divers books, 
novels, etc., spread over it in scholastic confusion. A 
crimson-cushioned rocking-chair rolls tranquilly be- 
fore the table, and other easy-chairs occupy various 
parts of the room. A neat bed in one corner is bal- 
anced by a secretary full of books in the center of the 
opposite wall. Those two water-scenes I drew at 
Brown's occupy a station over the mantel-piece. Wash- 
stand, trunks, dumb-bells, pitcher and tumblers, mir- 
rors, fill up and ornament the chamber. I shall soon 
have a carpet, fender, tongs and shovel, and more pict- 
ures. There ! do not you call this a prime abode ? 1 
have not a very laborious life. Reading, studying, 
visiting, and eating alternately, fill up my time. ... I 
went to Nahant a short time since, and killed plenty 
of peeps, four at one shot and three at another. 

November i6, 1828. 
The circle of my employments here is not con- 
fined as on the Colline Ronde ; if there is not a lesson 
to recite, there is a duck on the river, or a play at 
the theatre. . . . There is no news, except such as : 
Jackson is elected ; Miss Sales is sick of the croup ; 
Mr. Quincy has had a wound from the fall of a lad- 
der ; Doc. Pop is down with a cold, and such-like. 
So good-by. 



64 Thomas G. Appleton, 

It was perhaps at this time that Thomas executed 
for a friend, who still retains it in his possession, a 
likeness of a celebrated professor, on the cover of a 
snuff-box. He was responsible for a drawing, a front- 
ispiece for the catalogue of the " Med. Fac," a secret 
society already popular, of a skull and cross-bones with 
the somewhat questionable motto : 

" Nil desperandum Satano duce." 

The next spring he changed his room, of which he 
thus writes : 

May 26, 1829. 

Charley, I have changed domiciles ; the other 
house was to be sold, so I had to " cut a stick," and 
am now lodged at Uncle Sam's old farm, do you re- 
member ? Finest location in Cambridge ; trees, pond, 
peaches, cherries, etc., in abundance. My new room 
presents the same brilliant appearance as the other, 
only its glories are somewhat tarnished by smoke, as 
my chimney ejects the aforesaid article voluminously. 
I learned oil-painting, as I suppose you know, in the 
vacation ; and have had my apparatus conveyed hither, 
for the purpose of whiling away an idle hour, as you 
express it ; maidens, horses, and landscapes dazzle 
around the beaming apartment, and the very air is 
tainted with oil and varnish. The government is as 
savage as thunder. Sent off J. L. Motley, Binney, 



College-Life, 65 

Harris, and Devereux last week. Think of that — a 
little while ago, Motley was second scholar. 

" Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! " 

But, after all, college is a splendid place. I live 
here at my ease, near Boston, and possess everything 
to make a man as happy as he can wish. . . . Josiah 
Quincy is chosen for our next president. The inaugu- 
ration will take place next week. 

In Dr. Holmes's memoir of Motley, already referred 
to, is a reminiscence, by Mr. Appleton himself, of his 
life in the Brattle House : 

" Motley's room," he says, " was on the ground- 
floor, the room to the left of the entrance. He led a 
very pleasant life there, tempering his college duties 
with the literature he loved, and receiving his friends 
amid elegant surroundings which added to the charm 
of his society. Occasionally we amused ourselves by 
writing for the magazines and papers of the day. Mr. 
Willis had just started a slim monthly, written chiefly 
by himself, but with the true magazine flavor. We 
wrote for that ; and sometimes verses in the corner of 
a paper called the * Anti-Masonic Mirror,' in a corner 
of which was a woodcut of Apollo, inviting to destruc- 
tion ambitious youths by the legend underneath : 

* Much yet remains unsung.' 



66 Thomas G, Applet on. 

" These pieces were usually dictated to each other, 
the poet recumbent upon the bed, and a classmate 
ready to carry off the manuscript for the paper of the 
following day. 

*' * Blackwood's ' was then in its glory, its pages red- 
olent of mountain-dew in every sense ; the humor of 
the shepherd, the elegantly brutal onslaughts upon 
Whigs and Cockney poets by Christopher North, in- 
toxicated us youths. It was young writing, and made 
for the young. The opinions were charmingly wrong, 
and its enthusiasm was half Glenlivat, but this de- 
lighted the boys. There were no reprints then, and 
to pass the paper-cutter up the fresh, inviting pages 
was like swinging over the heather arm-in-arm with 
Christopher himself." 

A manuscript book remains, containing the liter- 
ary effusions of college-life, in which, among poems, 
sketches, stanzas, snatches of rhyme, in Mr. Appleton's 
handwriting, comes the following in another hand : 

SONNET TO T. G. APPLETON ON HIS INIMITABLE POMES. 

Brattle Manor. 

As, in the room where Shakespeare first saw light, 
Travelers ambitious write their humble name, 
Tracing the hour when, pilgrim-like, they came 
To make the Orient home of luster bright. 
Whose beams have lit the raven wings of night 
Until they shone with a time-spurning flame — 
So I, in limping verses, dull and lame. 



College- Life, 67 

Here reverently my name and tribute write 
Witliin this book, the curious birthplace 
Of your quaint thoughts, that, " after many days," 

When, looking on this place of its location, 

My humble name with yours I'll see entwined. 

Like Gait's with Byron's — and, like him, I'll find 

I've gained an "amber immortalization." 

J. L. M. 

Dear Tom : If you swallow that without straining, 
the camel will go down unbuttered. 
January 23, 1831. 

A short extract will suffice from a long poetical 
letter from Thomas to his brother : 

January 26, 1830. 

How comes it, dear Charlie, we write one another 

So rarely of late, although brother and brother ? 

For, though all the rest of the folks get a plenty, 

Me miserum I do not have one out of twenty. 

However, nimporte, as the French lubbers say, 

We 11 not retrograde, but write more from this day. 

. . . This winter in Boston has been very gay — 

They've had bachelors' balls and loud times, they do say. 

Aunt William herself undertook, magna arte, 

To perpetrate a most delightful large party ; 

Where coxcombs were strutting and belles looking bright, 

And with mirth and dancing vexed the ear of night. 

Miss Marshall there looked as fair as any peri. 

And flashed around lightnings from out of her dear eye. 

There Juniors sported their crow's-feet, and Seniors 

Outrivaled town-bucks, though outvied by the Juniors. 

And so on. 



68 Thomas G, Apple ton. 

In the vacation of his senior year Thomas took a 
trip to the Canadas, etc., of which the account is pre- 
served in a journal, the first of a series which he had 
the good habit to keep up for several years. The ink 
is faded and yellow, but the handwriting has all the 
characteristics of his later years. It is decorated with 
many flourishes and little vignettes. Half the book is 
filled with poems, chiefly original, some copied from 
Shelley and the favorite authors of the moment. The 
journal is preceded by this quotation : 

" A word on the spot is worth a bushel-basket of recollec- 
tions." — Grays Letters. 

His companion was his cousin, Isaac Appleton 
Jewett, of the class before him in college, just grad- 
uated. They went first to Burlington, Vermont, and 
thence by boat to St. John, where he had letters of 
introduction. 

"29/^ — Went with my new acquaintances and 
Jewett to see the Gray Nuns ; we were carried round 
by the famous one-legged John. Bought a pin-cushion. 
Struck with the face of a young nun, whose portrait 
would make a capital Madonna. Did not perpetrate 
any verses on the occasion." 

They went all the way to Quebec by water, enjoy- 
ing the fine scenery, and stayed there several days. 
Their first expedition was to the Falls of Montmorenci : 



Co liege- Life. 69 

" It is the most beautiful fall and display of natural 
beauty I have seen yet. It seemed to me as if a mass 
of the purest smoke was bounding downward, in oppo- 
sition to its seeming lightness, from rock to rock." 

''^August 2d. — I got a soldier of the last war to 
carry me to the Plains of Abraham. He was a lo- 
quacious fellow, and told me many stories of his expe- 
rience in the last war. He was in the chase of the 
Constitution by the British fleet. It was a beautiful 
evening, and I enjoyed my long -cherished wish of 
standing upon the Plains of Abraham. I could easily 
perceive the rashness of Wolfe's attempt, and conject- 
ure pretty nearly the disposition of the two armies." 

*' To say a few words upon the Canadian character. 
They are spirited, but mean ; slovenly to a proverb ; 
ignorant and prejudiced, thinking their own country 
the finest in the world, and themselves worthy pos- 
sessors of it. They are avaricious, and seem to think 
the merest service worthy a pecuniary recompense. 
Though, from this cause, their frankness and even 
kindness may excite suspicion, I, for my own better 
enjoyment, and the dignity of our species, am de- 
termined to look always on the bright side, and, in a 
doubtful case, to believe that which does most honor 
to the agent." 

" We set sail — abominable bull ! we left — Quebec 



70 Thomas G. Appleton, 

at eleven o'clock, with many regrets and lingering 
looks behind. It was a glorious moonlight, and every- 
thing united to produce a novel and pleasing effect. 
The gleaming waves, the variety of costume, the dis- 
cordant voices, the merry cheering of neighboring 
sailors, the receding towers of story-hallowed Quebec, 
the distant watch-fires, the glorious moon, and last, 
not least, the society of a pretty miss among the pas- 
sengers, irresistibly combined to render me happy." 

This was retracing his steps on the river. They 
reached Montreal early the next morning, but passed 
on, without stopping, to Burlington, where they had 
letters, and were lionized for a couple of days. 

** July "jth, Whitehall. — On the steamboat the night 
was hot. Haunted by the boot-black, who said at 
last, with a simper : * Sir, ahem ! perhaps you are not 
aware that sixpence is the perquisite of my office.* 
In the morning, fine weather ; we saw Ticonderoga 
dimly, and longed to go on shore. Scenery around 
both grand and beautiful. We ought to have got out 
at Ticonderoga and gone up Lake George, but the 
other steamboat had struck upon a rock ; so we had 
to go on." 

They drove from Whitehall to Saratoga over a 
sandy road : 



College-L ife, 7 1 

** Went all day at the rate of three miles an hour. 
Mem. : Avoid that road in future. It grew cool and 
sunny as we approached the Springs. We found every 
house full. So many strangers never known there 
since the memory of man. We boarded at Union 
Hall, but were * colonized ' at a private house, and 
that a mere rat-hole, between us two. We looked in, 
in the evening, at a hop at the United States. Lots of 
beauty ! " 

They found many acquaintances, and joined in the 
current gayeties. 

"Scared the old Quakers by using a cue at bil- 
liards. Thirteen left the room in hysterics. In the 
evening went to a grand ball. Van Buren was there. 
He looked to me like a little, waspish, withered, cun- 
ning diplomatist, but developing more of the littleness 
of the fop than the dignity of the statesman. Mrs. 
Otis was the belle ; she had on a kind of crown, with 
a tiara of feathers, and was habited in gold and pur- 
ple." 

^^ July \2th. — Took leave of Jewett and bustling 
Saratoga — the last place in the world one would think 
an invalid would be stationed at. His nerves are per- 
petually shattered through the day by the rattling of 
wheels, the tramp of hurrying feet, and the discordant 
jargon of a hundred tongues ; and, in the night, the 



72 Thomas G, Applet on, 

murdering of a hundred tunes by a hundred instru- 
ments." 

From Albany, Mr. Appleton went down the Hud- 
son to New York ; probably this was his first visit 
there, as railways had not yet made communication 
easy from Boston. 

^^July \()th. — Spent the morning at the splendid 
English Gallery of Paintings. Murillo's piece pleased 
me the most, also a landscape by Claude Lorraine 
and a Van de Velde. In the evening went to the 
Bowery. Sam Hackett played * Rip Van Winkle.' " 

" 2Qth, — Lounged about — admired the Battery 
and Castle Garden ; hardly ever saw a scene equal 
in variety to the view before me, a complete pano- 
rama. 

" Started about 4 p. m. in the Chancellor Living- 
ston. I found a pleasant circle of acquaintance on 
boat, and had a delightful sail up to Newport. We 
passed rapidly through Providence, and reached Bos- 
ton at three minutes of three o'clock. Five minutes 
earlier I could have taken the boat for Nahant, where, 
as I learned to my disappointment, every one of the 
name of Appleton in our street was then vegetating." 

Not much more is to be gathered, out of the for- 
gotten past, of the three tranquil years of college-life. 



College-Life, ']'iy 

After graduating, Thomas entered the Law School in 
Cambridge, in pursuance of the wish of his father. 

Mr. Nathan Appleton took his seat in Congress in 
December, 1831. His absence from home, in Wash- 
ington, gave occasion to his son to write to him, and 
the letters for two winters following are full and fre- 
quent, showing that, while at the Law School, Thomas 
devoted himself with diligence to the study of the 

law. 

Cambridge, Mrs, Parker's, December 10, 1831. 

Here am I with a musical fire wasting my nether 
extremities, while Jack Frost, in the rear, careers on a 
dozen blasts from a dozen cracks, in a knightly tilt 
against my back and shoulders. I have a huge pile 
of Blackstones, Rawles, Ricardos, etc., as a barrier to 
his attacks, but, alas ! subtle Jack has no fear even of 
the law ; and though this mound may slightly protect 
my lower man, the advantage is compensated for by 
the double numbness of my ears. Certainly to roast 
and freeze at the same time is a torture surpassing 
even the ingenious miseries of a Dionysius. 

I am now beginning the fourth book of Blackstone. 
Oh ! that the musty mazes of the law were all as clas- 
sically garnished as those I have just trodden with Sir 
William ! But, alas ! I see in the ample vista of the 
future the melancholy ghosts of Illuminated Dullness, 
prosing Pedantry, and tumid Technicality. I see the 



74 Thomas G, Appleton. 

Sahara of Learning, the level expansion of tedious 
Drudgery, where never streamlet glittered, bird never 
sang. 

It is such fun to be euphuistic. I mean only to 
say that, from all accounts, Blackstone is the most 
elegant and delightful of law-books, and that Reports 
and other duller details show themselves ahead. . . . 

I am reading Rabelais. What a quaint, humor- 
some old wight he is ! Sterne evidently transplanted 
his flowers largely. 

I am very tender of writing long letters, and know 
your dire aversion to them. But, father, where the 
heart is full, the mouth speaketh. One could write 
for aye to those one loves. I am in perfect health. 
Have you battled with your cold ? 

Hark ! the bell chimes ! the paper is o'er blotted ! 

Beso d listed los ?nanos. 

T. G. Appleton. 

This was but the often-repeated expression of his 
affection for a father who, he used to say, " was loved 
more than five hundred fathers were ever loved." 

Boston, December, 1831. 
Dear Father : To keep your mill a-going, I will 
now add one to the stream of epistles flowing almost 
daily, I believe, from our family. I have had, for the 



College-L ife. 7 5 

last week, what is called Thanksgiving vacation, and, 
barring the influenza, I have had little positive amuse- 
ment besides sketching. We are, it is true, just now 
an ailing family, and yet as well off for fun and com- 
fort as ever, bating your loss, of which we are hourly 
reminded. Alas ! the key-hole now waits in vain for 
the tinkle of your wonted key. Your capacious arm- 
chair now remains unfilled, and the blooming turkey 
weeps through her oysters for the skillful weapon of 
its departed carver. . . . We get along as well as I 
expected since your sun set, but the immediate effects 
of the consequent gloom were a later bed -leaving, 
more gravy spilt on the table-cloth, a slight assump- 
tion of dignity, and a general influx of bills. 

Cambridge, December 12, 1831. 

As you say you like to receive a letter every day, 
there can be no harm in my writing you again. I 
have been at home the last two days, and am returned 
here to-night. Just as I got back, I met Wendell 
Phillips, who told me that, on account of the influ- 
enza and a want of coal for the students, the vacation 
was to begin this week, instead of next. I therefore 
have got, as soon as possible, to "brail up my duds," 
and race back again. 

We had to-day, in the morning, a fine, masterly 
sermon from Dr. Channing. I would like to give you 



76 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

a sketch of it, if I had room. The text, *' God careth 
for us," was most philosophically illustrated, and God's 
providence ably vindicated. It was one of his most 
thoughtful, and connected as a train of reasoning. 
The house was quite full. The doctor, at the begin- 
ning, requested all the young folks to refrain from 
talking, as far as possible. . . . The boys have been 
catching ducks in the Frog-pond daily lately. An 
interesting Scotch family have just come over. Aunt 
Sam had the children at her house the other night, 
and they danced beautifully. There is another Scotch 
girl just come — a confectioner, named Burns McDon- 
ald — quite a beauty. All the Appletons patronize her 
hugely. Her " Walter Scott snaps " are all the rage. 

Boston, December 25, 1831. 

Dear Father : We all wish you a very mer- 
ry Christmas. A right merry one, no doubt, you 
will have, banqueting with the great ones of the 
land ; but, after all, Christmas is essentially domes- 
tic in its character, and its services are never so 
sacred and endearing as when its altar is the family 
hearth. 

... In your letter you mentioned the service that 
letter-intercourse is to young men, and proposed occa- 
sional topics, etc. Now, if I take you aright, you 
seem to advise for me a little more correct, Addisoni- 



College-L ife, 7 7 

an style than generally comports with my humor or 
choice. Familiarity, colloquialness, and a rambling 
ease are, as I think, the life of such an intercourse. 
They are, to writer and reader, the " heart of the mys- 
tery," and therefore I have generally avoided anything 
like composition-writing. To write fine in a letter is 
to me to be tedious, and who, in a family, would walk 
on stilts ? However, I dare say I have misinterpreted 
your meaning, and therefore I cry your clemency, and 
promise to suit you to the best of my " gifts." We 
have been once or twice to the theatre. But we have 
done with Burke. No one can eat honey forever. He 
has had good houses, but makes little sensation. 

Cambridge, January 8, 1832. 
Dear Father : My first act of duty, after perus- 
ing a chapter of Kent's " Commentaries," I find to be 
to reply to your last letter. It is in a very thoughtful 
and retrospective spirit. Your sentiments on the New 
Year are mine also. Heaped over as the cup of bless- 
ing to us ever has been, we certainly should allow no 
family to go before us in acknowledgments of favor, 
and in a return of piety, for with sincerity I know no 
one family that has been blessed so exceedingly in each 
other as we. The hand of sorrow has not touched us. 
Health, affection, prosperity, and honor are the gifts 
with which we are favored. I pray Heaven we may 



78 Tho7nas G. Applet on, 

none of us dispel this charm of happiness by any un- 
worthy return for such benefits. . . . 

Mr. Ashmun, I am sorry to say, is in delicate health. 
As our studies are interrupted by his illness, I have 
provided a canvas, as a relaxation. I contemplate 
painting " The Dying Alchemist," a fine subject. Be not 
afraid I shall waste my time. I am, to be sure, not a 
little peculiar, in notions and practice, yet as to time 
I am orthodox. I hate to be idle, yet I do not like all 
employment. I never could make a drudge, yet, when 
interested, I do not feel weariness. I will not give' up 
my mind to what I feel to be useless or of doubtful 
excellence. I study, as I do everything almost, to en- 
large my mind, to multiply my ideas, to give a wider 
range for thought. But I own I am sometimes restive 
under some of the discipline which may be necessary. 
I am rather too fond of variety, too fond of mental 
excitement, too fond of the end, to be patient under 
the means. I think a good deal, but rather unmethod- 
ically. I know something, yet am ignorant, from lu- 
bricity of memory, of many common things. I am 
very variable in constitution, sensitive to weather — yet 
with all these faults hope I shall do well. T. G. A. 

Cambridge, January 9, 1832. 
I have been alone all day, and am now just in the 
humor for a social chat with a friend. Would that I 



Co liege- Life, 79 

could transplant you to my rocking-chair, and have 
you enliven the monotony of solitude with the persi- 
flage and fun of the Capitol ! 

The gift of ubiquity would be a glorious one — it 
may be among the attributes of our future eternity of 
happiness. To be at the same time in the presence as 
well as the hearts of our dear friends, to feel space no 
barrier, but to pervade the universe, and wherever 
there is a throb of affection for us to be present to 
enjoy it, would make life indeed glorious and every 
moment golden. 

I am again reading " Boswell " — how capital, is it 
not ? I am nearly through. I wonder I never fin- 
ished it before. It is, I think, the most delightful as 
well as the most instructive book I ever read. Nor 
do I think so meanly of Bozzy as I expected. He 
certainly was knowing, polished, and affectionate. I 
love the Doctor as much as Bos. did, certainly. He 
was a noble fellow, saturated with knowledge ; a mag- 
azine of satire, a powder-house of wit. Talking of 
him and his dictionary, as, you know, he despised the 
Americans, I will supply a few terms he probably over- 
looked : 

Congress. A place where business is evaded, 
originating probably in the Jews* synagogue. (See 
Bedlam.) 

Representative. Member of the above body ; 



8o Thomas G, Appleton, 

consumer of the King's English, and of the Republic's 
pens, paper, etc. 

President. A national butt ; head-waiter at the 
Tennessee Hotel ; his only vails, abuse and removal. 

January 25, 1832. 

Mr. Ashmun has begun a course of lectures, of 
which we had one this afternoon, on testaments, and 
very interesting. The professor seems to be in better 
health than I expected. We have opened the term 
with great spirit, have already finished the first volume 
of " Kent," and begun on the second. 

But I must stop ; on looking at my watch, I find 
that I must hurry to a debating society, that meets to- 
night to moot the question, " Were our ancestors fair 
and honorable in their treatment of the Indians ? " 

These extracts give some idea of how the young 
law-student filled up his time. It was not all work or 
solitary application. A dinner club of six or eight 
men, classmates and friends, which lasted for a long 
time, was then formed. 

In the spring vacation of 1832, Thomas escorted 
his mother and sister to the South, the main objects of 
the excursion being Mrs. Appleton's health, and the 
pleasure of joining the husband and father in Wash- 
ington. The journey was taken by easy stops, with a 



College- Life, 8i 

pause at Baltimore, from which Thomas writes to give 
warning to his father of their approach : 

May 17, 1832. 
We arrived here after a rather long but very de- 
lightful rjde, about a quarter of six last evening. We 
have exceedingly good rooms, and are housed to our 
satisfaction. Soft crabs are here in all their glory, and 
we have them for dinner regularly. No wonder Crabbe 
was a poet ; every one is full of poetry — so full, that 
eating them inspires me, and hereafter I cut the Nine, 
and woo these armed bards of the ocean for inspiration. 

The happy life, without break, so keenly appreci- 
ated by Thomas, was destined not to last beyond the 
close of the year whose commencement had his notice 
of so much family felicity. The health of Mrs. Apple- 
ton became a cause of anxiety. In the autumn of 
1832 she began to fail more rapidly, and, before spring 
opened, Mr. Nathan Appleton was summoned home 
from Washington by her death, which took place in 
February, 1833. 

On the ist of April of that year, Thomas sailed for 
Europe. The sailing-packet Philadelphia left New 
York with a merry set of passengers, many of them 
already friends and acquaintances, who went from 
Boston to Providence by stage-coach, and to New 
York by the Sound. 



82 Thomas G, Applet on, 

Mr. Appleton was just twenty-one when he thus 
left America for the first time, his birthday coming on 
the 31st of March. Well equipped with an inquiring 
mind, the advice of wise counselors, the good wishes 
of warm friends, and a moderate balance to his credit, 
the young man started on the first of those voyages 
across the Atlantic which for many a year formed an 
important part of his career. 

The next chapter is occupied by extracts from a 
journal of the voyage, written day by day on board 
the packet. 



CHAPTER VI. 



FIRST VOYAGE. 



1833. 

List of passengers in the Philadelphia, Captain 
Champlin : 



Mr. Grey, 
Mrs. Grey, 
Mr. Whitwell, 
Mrs. Whitwell, 
Dr. Bigelow, 
Mrs. Bigelow, 
Mr. Foote, 
Mrs. Foote, 
Mr. R. W. Hooper, 
Mr. Blanchard, 
Mr. O. W. Holmes, 
Mr. G. M. Barnard, 
Mr. T. G. Appleton, 
Miss Barker, 
Mr. Berry, 



Mr. Baker, 

Mrs. Hills, 

Mr. Lane, 

Mrs. Lane, 

Mr. Hammersley, 

Mr. Cook, 

Mrs. Boott, 

Miss Boott, 

Monsieur Larague, 

Mr. Guitshow, 

Mr. T. B. Curtis, 

Mrs. Curtis, 

Miss Mary F. Curtis, 

Mile. Victorine (maid), 

Mr. Young. 



Fifteen steerage-passengers. 



84 Thomas G. Appleton, 

Journal. April i, 1833. — At ten o'clock, on the 
morning of the ist, were assembled on board the 
steamer Hercules the passengers of our ship. The 
day was most enchanting, and a very large crowd of 
friends were on the wharf, to be in our way, and to 
bid us farewell. 

The air exhilarated, the waters sparkled, and the 
bell rang. Handkerchiefs waved, hands were kissed, 
and we were off. The weather was so fine that the 
little steamer was filled with a delightful party of girls, 
ladies, and other passengers. 

We had soon reached our ship, which was at an- 
chor in the Narrows, and, as the little wind there was 
was not favorable, the steamboat was lashed by the 
side of the ship, for the purpose of conveying her 
beyond Sandy Hook. The plump little Hercules did 
not belie its name ; it took our majestic ship under 
its arm, and bore it off from the smoke and clamor of 
the city at a rate that made us wish for a longer ac- 
quaintance with steam than we had a prospect of. 
There was something ridiculous in the coolness and 
ease with which the Hercules bore us off ; as Dr. 

Holmes said, it reminded him of Mr. and Mrs. K , 

sweeping down Beacon Street — she all paddle and 
steam and smoke, he all dignified inertness. As we 
were dashing along there was a hurried rush ; all eyes 
were strained to windward, and the fearful cry of " A 



First Voyage, 85 

man overboard ! " rose from the quarter - deck. I 
sprang upon it, and saw a bluff sailor, with open 
mouth, blanched cheeks, and waving arms, swept by 
me into the ridges and froth of our track. I thought 
it was all over with him, as he was borne, like a straw, 
far into the distance. Some of us tossed the helm- 
cover overboard to him. It floated presently within 
his reach. He clung with a hearty good-will to it, and 
soon was in a position that required only patience to 
insure his safety. We held our breath until we saw 
him safe in the boat sent out to him, and were re- 
joiced that an accident, which would have been omi- 
nous on our starting, turned out so well. 

The North American, a rival packet, sailed side by 
side with us, and we supposed she would be our con- 
sort for half the way at least ; but presently her hull 
began to sink beneath the horizon, and not long after 
not even her mizzen-pennant was discernible above 
the ocean view. 

(Here let me enter my protest against pens called 
^'' Perry an'* I abjure and despise them ; they are vex- 
atious, scratchatious, and detestable. I throw mine to 
the winds, and henceforth vow, tailor-like, to stick de- 
votedly to my goose.) 

After reaching and passing the bar, our visitors 
were regaled with a sumptuous collation, and soon 
after took leave of their friends. A simultaneous 



86 Thomas G. Applet on. 

cheer broke from either vessel as we parted company. 
We held our course, and soon a strong and favorable 
breeze wafted us out of all sight of fatherland. We 
ran at the rate of ten knots an hour. In the evening 
the moon rose full and cloudless, the sun setting in 
the west in a sheet of crimson. We conversed and 
promenaded till eleven, and then retired to our 
berths. 

April 2d. — After a delicious sleep, I rose and ran 
up on deck. The breeze had died, and we were rock- 
ing in a sea of silver. It was calm for the rest of the 
day, with the exception of part of the afternoon, when 
we held our course prettily. Breakfast at nine o'clock 
is, I see, on the water, the key-stone of the day, being 
most excellent, and sauced with an outrageous appe- 
tite. After it, I took a walk with Mrs. Boott on the 
deck. She told me she had been very sick, but the 
calm had restored her. Though all day we did little 
better than roll in the trough of the sea, I passed the 
time most agreeably. I felt nothing of that do-little, 
drowsy ennui that I had expected. I varied my 
amusements, and found them all delightful. I talked 
sentiment with Dr. Holmes ; then flirted in bad French 
with Victorine ; soon joined with Mr. Curtis and our 
two doctors in a cannonade of puns. This, by-the- 
way, is our forte^ and we keep it up, each made nim- 
ble-witted by the quickness of the others, till we have 



First Voyage, %"] 

to desist from side-ache. Then I took Shelley into 
the jolly-boat, and read — 

" Our boat has one sail, 
Our helmsman is pale," etc. — 

or rather, for sympathy — 

" Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream." 

And right sound did our lazy ship sleep all day ; but, 
thanks to her light build, did not snore, as some do. 

At twelve we have lunch ; and, at four, dinner ; tea 
at eight, and, quite marvelous, no supper. Dinner went 
off famously ; the dullness of the weather had drawn 
forth the social capabilities of our company, and we 
found ourselves admirably supplied. A constant suc- 
cession of stories kept us in a roar, and thus killed an 
hour and a half without our noticing its decease. We 
came to the conclusion that the, elements of social 
happiness were distributed among us with very un- 
usual good fortune. There is no sulky, cross-grained 
vagrant to mar our merriment. Though incongruous 
as the details of the witches' caldron, we all assimi- 
late into a capital sea-broth, and seem likely to keep 
always a-bubbling. 

Mrs. Hill and Miss Lane, both uncommonly pro- 
ficient and enchanting musicians, played for us all the 
evening, without the painful process of supplication ; 
and an admirable voice in the steerage gave us a sue- 



88 Thomas G. Applet on, 

cession of stirring ballads, singing, with a full chorus 
of bass voices — 

" Britannia rules the waves." 

We had a cloudy moonlight, which we enjoyed in 
the round-house, entertaining each other with ghost- 
stories and conundrums. Monsieur Larague was un- 
usually frisky this evening, and we had some awful 
punning at supper. 

April 4th. — On rising from bed, I found myself 
pitched nearly head-first through the window of 'my 
state-room, and, having succeeded in dressing, bruised 
and battered, I went aloft. Clouds were trailing along 
the horizon, and a gale was blowing. It was a most 
magnificent sight. The waves soared around our bows 
in a very fiendish manner. The poor chickens and 
ducks were chattering in terror ; the captain was 
shouting pithy orders through a trumpet, and every- 
thing presented a lively picture of animated nature. 
All the still-life of the day previous had undergone a 
sea-change. The sailors stood at ridiculously acute 
angles with the deck, and the first movement I made 
was to throw myself in an ecstasy of fondness upon 
the bosom of the first mate, who, in a sort of fireman's 
cap, and a picturesque overcoat with moony buttons, 
was eying the spars aloft from the opposite side of the 
vessel. 



First Voyage. 89 

Few were there at breakfast, and fewer at dinner. 
Only ten out of the thirty appeared, the rest being 
employed in " shooting cats," as the captain calls it. 
Dinner was the most absurd operation. With no 
heart to eat, we had to be wary to prevent the dishes 
from forcing themselves on our acceptance. There 
might be seen an avalanche of turkey, with its vortex 
of gravy, sliding into the bosom of a monsieur taking 
wine with his vis-h-vis^ who pours his claret into his 
waistcoat-pocket, instead of his verre de vin. All this 
was amusing to me, as I have not in the slightest de- 
gree suffered from sickness ; though, while I write, my 
stool slides from under me, and the dinner-table jin- 
gles with the rolling glasses. . . . 

April ^th. — The worthy passengers begin to re- 
cover from their troubles. Almost all were at dinner. 

April 6th. — The sea a most beautiful sight ; lying 
in shifting light and shadow, "deeply, darkly, beau- 
tifully blue " — that blue which I had heard of, but 
never saw before. The water hissed and simmered 
as we clove its ridges, running off from the sides in 
long, undulating sheets of foam, with partial breaks 
of the most exquisite beryl tint. I have leaned this 
morning hours on the taffrail, gazing at the stir and 
tumult, the many beautiful shapes of the wreathed 
spray, or watching the effects of light and shadow — 
light which makes the distant billows look like a 



90 Thomas G. Appletoit. 

twisted and wrinkled strip of tin-foil, and shadow that 
gives to the sharp edge of the horizon the hue and 
outline of a hacked carving-knife. Excuse the ro- 
mance of the similes, for their truth. 

This morning we lost a hen overboard. Mr. Cur- 
tis thinks she will meet foul weather. . . . 

April 6th. — A most delightful evening. The moon 
showed but a lurid disk, and that was soon lost be- 
hind the brown-black volumes of a long curtain of 
hanging cloud. It was glimmering darkness, and our 
sole spectacle was the water. How magnificent that 
was ! The ship appeared trampling the powers of 
darkness, and their faint anguish and smothered cries 
hissed up from their livid lips as we dashed above 
them. The vessel was every moment apparently on 
the borders of night and chaos. It was almost fearful 
to see her stepping off into what seemed a pitchy void. 
The ocean was ink, the foam faint crimson, illumi- 
nated and living with insect phosphorescence, and we 
left a trail of vivid and whirling light. The dim sails 
were as wings that fluttered our sea-bird over the 
deep. After exhausting the intoxication of the sight, 
we unromantically scrambled down-stairs to a penny 
game of vingt-un. 

April "jth. — This day is the Sabbath, and, though 
no church-going bell pealed us to worship, we felt we 
were in a nobler temple than we had ever before 



First Voyage, 91 

offered up adoration in. I felt more fully than ever 
the glory, grandeur, and mercy of the God of the great 
sea ; and I needed not other impulse to render devout 
heart-worship to him to whom I nightly pray for those 
far away, whose prayers I feel are nightly offered up 
for the absent one. 

We have all been on deck this morning, the air is 
so fresh and the day so seductive. Many of us were 
sunning ourselves on the windward side, when, slap ! 
a sea broke over us, and salted us all dismally. Such 
a running, screaming, shaking, and laughing ! 

We have all day run to the south, partly because 
the captain wished to avoid ice, and partly because 
he could not help it. We have not thus far been very 
fortunate in our winds, but, as we are one third over 
on our seventh day, if we are lucky, we may make yet 
a shortish passage. The days begin to slip away al- 
most unperceived, and without incident. 

April 10th. — This morning is delightful, the warm- 
est we have had. Every one, I believe, appeared at 
breakfast, which was very excellent, as usual. We 
have always fresh eggs, and often hasty-pudding ; and 
to-day, in addition, an unusual appetite. 

. . , What an odd, good-for-nothing life we lead ! 
A prolonged morning nap, jokes, and a wire-drawn 
breakfast ; a turn on deck, a sluggish conversation, a 
book held in the hand for an hour or two, another 



92 Thomas G. Applet on. 

turn on deck ; the bell sounds — we dash to dinner ; 
three courses, laughter, candles, tea, and the moon. 
And, voila^ the elements of ease and pleasure ! How 
character is drawn out and made familiar ! We are 
all inevitably brought in immediate contact. We are 
one family. I already feel as if I had lived always 
with these messmates. After tea to-night the shrill 
and ]oyoMS fanfar on of a rooster sounded from behind 
the mizzen at table. A hoarse and continued bray 
rejoined. Geese shrilled, turkeys gobbled, horses 
neighed, pussies mewed, lions roared, etc. We were 
the ark, or a traveling menagerie. Each imitation was 
furiously applauded. Victorine, the French maid, 
must have thought the ^^ tristes Yankees" had become 
Bedlamites, as the cabin rang with the discord of a 
hundred animals. 

April nth. — Mr. Curtis got out a chart, and we 
found that we were within a degree of the spot where 
the packet that last crossed saw vast islands of ice. 
The night was utterly dark ; you could but just dis- 
cover the horizon-line. This all frightened us pretty 
considerably, and I could not get to sleep for hearing, 
in fancy, the crushing of our ship on an iceberg, and 
for seeing the pale and terrible splinters of an ice- 
land. About one, the captain thought he saw the 
lights of a passing ship, and put up his own to keep 
us from hitting. It was so dark he could see nothing 



First Voyage, 93 

farther. At breakfast we had a good laugh at our 
poetic, romantic captain, who, it appears, had been 
passing compliments with the moon ! 

April 12th. — I got out of bed in a hurry to ascer- 
tain whether we had perished or not in the course of 
the night. The captain says we are now out of the 
region of danger. 

While gazing over the railing at the seething cal- 
dron about the ship, I had a fair sight at that most 
poetical of ocean-rovers, the nautilus. It was spin- 
ning round in the foam, in shape like a sculpin, with 
a many-colored and semi-transparent body, and two 
beautiful azure, gauze-like wings or sails. I saw no 
oars. It was whirled instantly out of sight. 

April \^th. — . . . We have progressed famously, 
and sanguinely expect to see English ground in four 
days. Looked over Carter's letters and Mrs. Cush- 
ing's "France and Italy"; came to the conviction 
that there is no book that may be made so dull as a 
book of travels, and take a hint therefrom as to my 
own management of the matter. 

In the evening we organized a lottery with refer- 
ence to the day of our arrival. Tickets were a crown 
each. Mine fell upon the 29th of April, from 6 a. m. 
till noon — this being the last in time ; so, as the rule 
is that I have the benefit of all possibilities of arrival 
after this date, I stand a pretty good chance. This 



94 Thomas G. Appleton, 

occupied the evening very pleasantly, and gives some 
of us a divided interest in the matter. 

April i6th. — A calm began about nightfall, and we 
found it still holding us this morning. This, of course, 
has affected the price of stocks, and I have had offers 
at a high percentage for my ticket, but would not sell. 
We have regular exchange-hours, and Hammersley is 
now having auction-sales overhead. Mem. : To call 
him at dinner the Knight of the Hammer. 

I had written thus far when I heard from the deck 
the cry of " Whales ! " I rushed up-stairs, and, with 
the rest, breathlessly strained my eyes over the bul- 
warks. Close by the ship the surface parted, and a 
broad, black, and smooth-looking snout was slowly and 
gracefully evolved from the still water. A fountain of 
foam shot into the air, accompanied by a blowing like 
the letting off spare steam of a steamer. There were 
about us four whales at least, and of the largest kind. 
They appeared to be about sixty feet in length, and left 
a wake much longer. Two of them were lovers ; they 
swam on in company, rose together, and sympatheti- 
cally poured forth their souls in a simultaneous blow. 
They proceeded in magnificent disdain of our ship, 
showed themselves once or twice very near, and the 
next we saw of them was their long backs and vaporous 
spout at the distance of a mile and a half. Immense as 
they are, they positively look smallish in contrast to the 



First Voyage, 95 

boundless pond they swim in. Seen in museums, they 
had to me always looked gigantic and out of all pro- 
portion ; but here there is a sense of fitness to their 
element. What would I not give to straddle one of 
these fellows, hold on to his ears, and be borne down 
to his sunless cells and his waving meadows of sea- 
weed ! — to leave my card for all the mermaid belles, 
and call on some old Triton at his coral country-seat, 
paved in the court with pearls, fenced with sea-wrecks, 
and lighted throughout with one moon-like carbuncle ! 
If the old fellow was rude enough to give my charger 
a twitch, and, whizz ! to be spun back to the insipid 
regions of air and daylight. 

I heard this morning from deck the cry, " Sail, 
ahoy ! " — ran up, and discovered on each bow a brig 
running with the wind. It was a fair race between 
them. I should have been glad to have my canvas 
and brushes with me, as the sea and clouds were of 
an excellent kind for a picture, the waves being short 
and high, with lucent transparence of clear green, and 
their tops blown off, like smoke. Here's a sonnet 
about it : 

With sudden birth, from forth the murmuring west, 
Before mine eye a glorious phantom grew 
To instant beauty from the vacant blue. 
A faery creature, in bright colors dressed. 
Like some fair angel on an errand blest, 
Of mercy, with soft, floating wings it flew. 



96 Thomas G, Apple ton. 

Most silent and most swift, through the dropped dew 

Each wave holds trembling on its silver crest. 

A hundred prayers shall follow it with tears, 
And anxious wishes round its path shall fly. 

It shoots before my eye, and now appears 
In gray relief against the troubled sky. 

Behind the ocean-rim it disappears. 
And now 'tis sunk beyond it utterly. 

This shows the advantages of poetry. I have taken 
no less than two egregious poetical licenses. In the 
first place, I have called her a ship, when it was only 
a brig ; and, in the next, I have made her come out of 
the west to get to America ! because, forsooth, east 
only has rhymes 'va yeasty beast — both evidently unsatis- 
factory. 

April i2>th. — The night was very uncomfortable to 
all of us, the ship rolled so much ; and dinner was a lit- 
tle more angular than it has been heretofore. I was to 
windward, and consequently had nothing to do but to 
hold on to my plate ; but, to leeward, many a waist-coat 
and shirt-bosom reeked with the good things of our 
larder, and the table literally ran with milk and honey. 

April 19///. — The breeze this morning left us, and 
we were all out sunning ourselves, looking like a pack 
of lazzaroni^ and listlessly watching the flapping sails 
of a brig about half a mile to starboard — 

" As idle as a painted ship 
Upon a painted ocean." 



First Voyage, 97 

About an hour before, she was sailing down on us in 
fine style, when we were rolling in a dead calm. She 
kept on, all sails set, like the Flying Dutchman, till 
within half a mile. Then the calm struck her, and 
there she stuck. She then let down her boat, and it 
is bounding over the gray to us. . . . 

There were six grim and rusty-looking seamen in 
the boat, and a handsome fellow held the helm. At 
last it reached our side. A painter was thrown out, 
and the steps were lowered. The man at the helm 
ran up, and bowed to the crowd of inquiring faces on 
our deck that met him as he stepped over the bul- 
warks. He was one of the handsomest subjects I have 
ever seen. Curling and tremendous whiskers hung 
around a cheek bronzed by an equatorial sun. A blue 
roundabout, with round bullet-buttons, covered a pair 
of square and very broad shoulders. The black cravat 
was loose about his neck ; and his black, crisp locks 
curled close about his smooth, wide forehead, sur- 
mounted by a neat straw hat, worn with a nautical 
cock. His eye was blue, small, and restless. Good- 
humor and drollery curled from the corners of his 
handsome mouth. Add an open manner and the 
free swagger of a sailor, and you have a picture of as 
pretty a fellow as ever walked a ship's deck. — That is, 
I flatter myself, quite in the style of Cooper, and, if 
I were in the humor, and the ship did not roll in such 



98 Thomas G. Appleton. 

a shameful manner, I might cover a ream in the ac- 
count of this visit, and get to the end of my book 
before I had returned my hero to his vessel. This 
chap was the mate. He said they were sixty days 
from Sierra Leone, with a cargo of African oak, and 
that they were out of provisions, but had water. We 
gave them nearly a barrel of beef, a barrel of biscuits, 
a bag of potatoes, another of rice, and a drum of figs. 
Some of the passengers added a box of cake and a lot 
of cigars for the captain. The rusty sea-dogs in the 
boat grinned a hungry satisfaction as the good things 
were successively lowered down to them. The mate 
offered to pay, but the captain declined. The poor 
fellows looked heartily grateful for his generosity, and 
I make no doubt toast us to-day as they dine on our 
liberality. It was quite a pretty incident, and. helped 
off the morning capitally. 

. . . Grey is a good romance-killer. Hearing my 
enthusiasm about Italy, he told me he doubted if I 
ever could get through it ; he had attempted it, and 
failed ; that the only way to get through Italy was 
" from a sense of duty." *' It was impossible to relish 
anything, the lazzaroni were so importunate." Credat 
JudcEus ! When will men leave off measuring others 
by their own foot-rules ? 

April 2isi. — This is our third Sunday, and, God 
willing, our last. Mr. borrowed my Bible and 



First Voyage, 99 

Channing's " Sermons," one of which I was in hopes 
he would give us ; but self-love supplied instead an 
indifferent one of his own. 

April 22d. — We now begin to flutter with anxious 
eagerness for land. We are within soundings, the 
water having changed its blue to a dull gray, and the 
fine beryl tints just under the foam are lost in a turbid 
white. The first actual symptom of land was the visit 
of a pretty little blackbird, fluttering about us with 
weary wings, yet fearing to alight. 

So, at last I am within hail of Old England ; and, 
after all, what is the trip across ? As Dr. Holmes said, 
with truth, the worst part of the voyage is the ride to 
Providence ! If a man is not sea-sick or impatient, it 
is as if his parlor was wheeled off v/ith him ; or, as if, 
like the man in the Eastern tale, he sat on his carpet 
and was wafted everywhere. 

April 2^t/i. — I have a faint recollection during the 
night of hoarse cries and the rattling of blocks, vari- 
ous symptoms of an increasing wind blending pleas- 
antly with my sleep. I was awakened by hearing 
screams through the cabin of " Get up, get up ! Pilot 
coming on board." His little boat was dipping about 
just astern of us, and a violent, favorable wind blow- 
ing. 

The pilot is a good specimen of the Bull people. 
He has the ingrained ruddy cheeks, the heavy build, 



lOO Thomas G. Applet on, 

and the cockney accent, never to be mistaken. He 
has been out a fortnight, an easterly wind having pre- 
vented many vessels from getting up the Channel. He 
says that, if the wind holds, we shall be carried to 
Portsmouth in twenty hours. 

After breakfast a cloud to the north lifted up, and 
we could see very distinctly the land. It was the 
Lizard — a point of Land's End, at the south — and 
its two lighthouses were quite visible. 

The captain considers the voyage as over, as he 
has resigned his command to the pilot. He says We 
have made a passage of twenty-three days — fifteen 
head-winds, three days' calm, and five fair wind. 

The morning was truly English. Clouds over- 
head, and a haze hanging over the long, purple line 
of coast. The wind is very fresh, and the scene about 
us most animated. Hundreds of little things — fishing- 
boats, pilot-boats, and the like — are scudding to the 
shore with the violence of the gale. They seem, being 
wholly black, without any white strip, like a flock of 
ravens hovering over the water. Once or twice larger 
boats have come so near as to show everything in 
them distinctly ; they dance hither and thither like 
acorn-cups in a basin. We are running in a most de- 
lightful manner, and the captain says he expects to 
wake us all, by six to-morrow, to go ashore. We have 
passed one or two promontories, and my eyes have 



First Voyage, loi 

delighted themselves with the green fields of Old Eng- 
land. There is a haze over the shore, yet we went 
near enough to see the trees and checkered meadows, 
cottages, and a church, whose spire stood forth, sharp 
and gray, against the white clouds. Mrs. Curtis said, 
by-the-way, that it must be the Church of England. 

In the evening we had a horned moon and a brill- 
iant sunset. The frequent lighthouses stood, like sen- 
tinel stars during the darkness, before our path ; but 
we saw nothing of that " sea-built tower the engineer 
smiled at," owing to the fog. 

April 25///. — I went to bed early last night, ex- 
pecting an early stirring ; and Mr. Curtis, as his head 
was on his pillow, no doubt heard the lottery-money 
already jingling in his pantaloons ; but, I make no 
doubt, was as regretful as I was delighted, on finding 
my sleep and his unbroken till the usual breakfast- 
hour. 

The wind has come round easterly, and within 
sight almost of Portsmouth, with the white cliffs of 
the Isle of Wight, tall and tree-crowned, on our lee- 
bow, we have to beat up, with the prospect of not 
getting in for three hours or more. 

Berry will win the prize in the lottery — seven 
pounds. We have drawn up and signed a polite letter 
of acknowledgment to the captain, and are all muster- 
ing on deck in our land-gear. Black pantaloons are 



102 Thomas G, Appleton, 

hanging, damp and wrinkled, round many a leg of 
late familiar with tar and what not ; and the unusual 
neckcloth painfully takes precedence of the careless 
stock. 

Farewell, good ship ! Adieu, kind captain ! May 
we meet you both again, and, till then, may storm and 
calm, land-sharks and water-sharks, spare both ! I 
shall not, Philadelphia ! readily forget thy luxurious 
quarters and flying wake. Kind captain ! not readily 
forget thine eyes' mysterious twinkle, thy stories, and 
thy fun. 

The voyage was over. The journal goes on, how- 
ever, to relate the adventures of several of the passen- 
gers. 



CHAPTER VII. 

LONDON. 
1833. 

Leaving the Philadelphia, the little party went 
on board a small sloop which conveyed them to Ports- 
mouth. As they approached the city, their eyes were 
busy in catching the first points of interest in this new 
world. The journal continues : 

" Partly the long confinement and exclusion from 
the world, and partly imagination, gave to every 
individual thing a wonderful newness and oddity. 
The tiled roofs, the salient angles of grotesque towns, 
pinnacles and house-tops, the many colors, the multi- 
tude of beings and novelties, all in a jumble, dashed 
upon our stagnant spirits and excited the blood, till 
I almost jumped out of our boat with delight. 

" It appeared to be washing-day, for clothes were 
hanging to the water's edge on every shed. It looked 
like a Dutch painting. I was not prepared for the 
picturesque look that everything wore. I had heard 



I04 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

Portsmouth was a dull place, and did not imagine 
that sea-life could have made me so in love with the 
stupid as I find myself. In fact, I have had to pinch 
myself often to-day to make sure I am awake. It 
was not till a drive in the afternoon that I fully real- 
ized I was in England. We got a * fly/ a sort of car- 
riage that throws open like a barouche, and four of 
us drove off with a * coachee * in white top-boots. I 
was staggered, stunned, and exhausted with the rapid- 
ity and violence of new emotions. 

" We turn a corner — sheets of living green appear 
deeper, richer than we have in America — oaks, with 
rooks cawing about their rookeries. Another corner 
turned, and we were whirling along a road smooth as 
if leveled by a roller, and studded with villas, and 
rows of cottages nearly touching — each different, 
and each as it succeeds challenging preference. The 
farms are like gardens, and the men like the costumed 
heroes of the drama. We were at once struck by the 
fairness, ruddiness, and full habit of the English in 
general. We Yankees must look like a continent of 
consumptives. I returned from our drive, having 
enjoyed more than was before ever compressed into 
the same space in my life. 

"After tea we visited the rest of our party at 
another hotel, and found them all preparing to scat- 
ter to the four winds." 



London, 105 

The next day was spent at the Isle of Wight and 
Carisbrooke Castle, where they entered by " a door 
like iron, of old oak, dented with the knuckles of 
centuries. An awful bell pealed, and a benign old 
gentleman opened the door. We were by him 
chaperoned." 

Everything was new, and every detail noted. As 
they left the hotel finally, " on the steps a respectable- 
looking stranger announced himself as Boots ; the 
maid soon simpered up after him for their vails^ after 
which we started. There are two universal phrases, 
as I have already discovered, in England : First, all 
servants end everything with * If you please,' touching 
their hats if they happen to have them on ; second, 
on starting, or on getting over any difficulty in a 
stage-coach, the guard universally cries, * All right ! ' 
A coach once running over a pig, the driver thought 
it was a child, and stopped. The guard saw it was a 
pig, called out, ' All right ! ' and on they dashed." 

From Portsmouth they went to Southampton, and 
thence to Salisbury, visiting first, however, Netley 
Abbey. At Southampton they were delighted with 
their dinner : " Chickens, small and tender as pheas- 
ants ; potatoes that crumbled under the suspicion of a 
touch ; a sole that, for the first time, I could call my 
own ; ale, a beverage such as Hebe never held ; an 
omelet that lingered like fruit upon the tongue ; 



io6 Thomas G. Appldon. 

young radishes, English cheese, an English waiter, 
and English charges." 

At Salisbury they joined other members of their 
Atlantic company, and compared notes : 

" Conversation in a flood ; we are all full to reple- 
tion with ideas which no one has time to digest — 
none but an anaconda could — such is the glorious 
rush of impressions we have received these last three 
days. 

" I came over in a TroUopian spirit, but my first 
drive sank the cynic in the boy. I am in love with 
this my fatherland." 

The description of the cathedral, and of the serv- 
ice therein, as well as that of Stonehenge, and all 
castles, picture-galleries, and the like, have been so 
repeatedly given by other travelers, that they are 
omitted here, in spite of the freshness of observation 
which gives them individuality in the pages of this 
journal. 

Of such sight-seeing Mr. Appleton says thus early 
in his travels : 

" To tell the truth, the effect is hardly pleasant. 
There is too much labor — one is distracted, dazzled, 
tantalized, and fatigued. I prefer some one simple, 
deep feeling to all this multiform and perplexing 
pleasure. One soon wearies of just glancing the eye, 
even at perfect pictures." 



London, ' 107 

This is the end of the volume containing the 
journal of the voyage. The sheets were sent off by 
packet to give pleasure to the family at home, while 
the young traveler, with one companion, Mr. Barnard, 
set out for London. Of May-day he says : 

** No merry minstrelsie, no holiday pageant, no 
garlanded May-pole ushered in the day in his Ma- 
jesty's good town of Salisbury. The stalking-horse 
hid his diminished head, festivity was not, and the 
gaitered citizens, plodding through the fallen rain, 
thought not of the fun and merrymaking of by-gone 
years. A few filthy and miserable children mocked 
with dirty flowers and tawdry ribbons the custom 
they alone seemed conscious of ; they danced about 
amid the iron-shod groups, vociferating for ha'pen- 
nies, the muddier at every fresh gambol. Alas for 
the days of old lang syne ! 

" On the 2d of May, Barnard and myself took 
our seats in the basket of the coach for London. 
The English coach has an inside, a box, and a basket, 
the two latter half the price of the interior ; having 
engaged his place, one can not change it, as with 
us. Now, as the interior has only four seats, and 
as in this climate rain is the prevailing weather, 
it must strike any one that the coach is built ex- 
pressly for the discomfort of travelers. We drove 
the whole way in the rain, on a seat of such con- 



io8 Thomas G. Appleton, 

struction that our attention was always occupied in 
holding on. 

" The coaches are narrow, generally painted green, 
and lettered all over. At a little distance they look 
like our fire-engines. Straw is liberally distributed to 
pillow the constrained limbs, and a cloud of umbrellas 
rising from a heap of straw looks not unlike mush- 
rooms growing under a stable. 

"Twenty miles outside of London the pulsation 
of the great heart began to quicken. Men and ve- 
hicles became more frequent, and long before we had 
entered the city the road was lined with houses. We 
passed Hounslow Heath without the suspicion of a 
* Stand and deliver ! * The frolic-ground of Paul 
Clifford and his worthies is now almost built over, 
and no one would call it a heath nowadays. 

"We saw Virginia Water, with a cascade, just on 
the road, and caught a glimpse, through the trees, of 
Windsor. We dashed at once into the West End, and 
found ourselves surrounded by palaces grim with 
coal-dust, looking as much like prisons as palaces, 
in spite of statuary and carving. Just as we entered 
London, on crossing a trifling stream, I thought I 
might as well ask its name ; the reply was, * The 
Thames ! ' " 

On the evening of their arrival the two young 
men went to the theatre, and saw Mathews ; on the 



London, 109 

next, to Drury Lane, and heard Madame Malibran in 
"La Sonnambula." 

" Madame's face is oval, her features very regular 
and full of expression, her voice when speaking is 
quite similar to that of Fanny Kemble. Her acting 
is nature, her singing expression. She is as graceful 
as possible, though with largish feet. She is alto- 
gether a charming woman." Of the scene in Hyde 
Park he says : 

"I will wager a sovereign that in this immense 
crowd there was not a smile the afternoon long. It 
was a sort of gaudy funeral. The perspiring foot- 
men looked with long faces into the cloudless heav- 
ens, and even the silk-laced lap-dogs turned blue as 
they saw the fog-like faces of their serene mistresses." 
He writes, after two visits to the Academy Exhibition 
in Somerset House : 

" I do not wonder at the fame of my country- 
man Leslie. He draws beautifully, and his coloring, 
though now looking raw, only wants glazing to be 
true. This morning I see all the wonderful merit of 
Wilkie. His scene in a Spanish convent is esteemed 
his very best picture, and indeed the best ever within 
the walls of Somerset House. It represents a monk 
at his confessional, and for breadth and force is per- 
fectly Rembrandt. I can not admire Turner vastly : 

all his pictures this year are sea-pieces, with chalky 
10 



no Thomas G. Appleton. 

gray for sky and water, and black and white for 
shadow and light, the sole force of the picture being 
in most cases an ochre sail. Ochre is his favorite tint, 
and he is often called * The Ochre-Man.* 

" There are pictures here which we should hardly 
admit into our Athenaeum. Indeed, I am quite com- 
forted in seeing so many bad pictures. Portraits 
occupy, as with us, an unreasonable space, and, after 
all, in proportion, I don't know but there are as many 
bad canvases as with us. . . . 

"Last night I went to the Haymarket, to' see 
Hackett in * Rip Van Winkle.' The theatre is about 
the size of the Tremont, lighted with wax. The play 
was stupid ; Hackett was poorly supported, and I 
have seen it better played in New York. No one 
here understands the naturalness of Hackett : all his 
characters are thrown away. There is a Yankee in 
the piece, played by a man who, because he talked 
quick and wore a straw hat, though in white-top 
boots, and using the cockney haspiration, was thought 
admirable." 

After visiting Westminster Abbey with deep inter- 
est, he " stopped to see the Exhibition in Water-Colors. 
This is the glory of English art. It is their forte. 
I hardly had a notion of the richness and finish this 
work is susceptible of. At a little distance many of 
the pictures I should have mistaken for oils. But 



London, 1 1 1 

that water-color pictures are so liable to destruction, 
I think it might be equal to and as popular as oil." 

They saw Pasta in " Medea." " Her figure is of 
Siddonian proportions, her acting and carriage those 
of the queen of tragedy. She is not in the least 
handsome, but at times very terrible. 

" After the opera, we had a ballet, in which Ta- 
glioni was chief dancer ; though there were a hun- 
dred dancers in it, no one would ask which was 
Taglioni. She is tall and slender, with a pretty face. 
Words are not to describe the perfect ease of her 
motions. Wheeling a wheelbarrow is with her as 
beautiful as a pirouette. She seems often to assume 
attitudes and perform steps expressly to show how 
much ease and grace can be thrown into movements 
which are in themselves awkward. 

^^ May nth. — Barnard and I at ten in the morning 
met by agreement, at the Royal Exchange, a party of 
about twelve, mostly Americans, to spend the day 
together rook-shooting at an estate owned by Mr. 
Pickersgill, the partner of Mr. Searle, who invited us. 
I never enjoyed a day of pleasanter sport. Captain 
Champlain and I sat on deck ; the hold and basket 
were crammed, and away we cracked. 

** After driving ten miles through a beautiful coun- 
try, where I was startled by finding again about me 
all the balm and song and freshness of spring, we 



112 Thomas G. Appleton. 

stopped in a large court at the door of a sort of farm- 
house, at the threshold of which, in shooting trim, 
stood Mr. Pickersgill. He received us warmly, and 
with English hospitality insisted before we went far- 
ther upon our entering the hall and taking a bite of 
bread and cheese, and a flagon of home-brewed. 
That done, we arranged matters for the sport. We 
divided into parties of two, each party having one or 
two air-guns, and firing by turns. This rook-shoot- 
ing is the only kind at this season of the year, and 
is esteemed choice fun. Immediately from the court 
entrance begins a noble forest, with slopes of bright 
green, here and there summer-houses and rabbit-bur- 
rows, and winding through all an osiered sheet of 
water, to which some two or three prefer to retire, act- 
ing Izaak Walton along the brink. The air was alive 
with cawing rooks, and out we sallied, a liveried servant 
attending to pump our guns when exhausted. 

" The sport was most delightful. I killed my first 
three birds dead, and Mr. Pickersgill paid me the 
compliment to say he would back me against any of 
the party. The air-gun is a delightful instrument. It 
carries a ball as truly as a rifle, and without other noise 
than a sort of fatal whisper, and it has the advantage 
that when pumped it is good for a dozen shots. We 
rambled all over the grounds in high spirits ; the day 
was most enchanting, and the woody scenery fine. 



London, 1 1 3 

** When we desisted at five, after a long day, with a 
relaxation, however, from the sport to see the grounds, 
we found each party had bagged about two dozen 
rooks. I killed six or seven. Whetted sharply were 
our appetites when we sat down to a simple but good 
dinner in the long * painted gallery,* so called from 
having no pictures, by the lucus non rule. I ate the 
better part of a rook-pie, which resembles pigeon, but 
better. Departing after dinner, we gave our host 
three cheers from the top of the coach. So much 
for a day of capital fun." 

After breakfasting one morning with some Eng- 
lish friends, Mr. Appleton was taken by them to the 
rehearsal of an ancient royal concert. "This is a 
very aristocratic affair ; none but subscribers being 
admitted to the concerts, but they can bring friends 
to the rehearsals. It was not crowded, but select. 
There were plenty of noblemen — who in dress, look, 
and manners are just like anybody else — and several 
lovely girls. The Archbishop of York had two pretty 
daughters. There was the Bishop of London and the 
Marquis of Westminster, and, among others, the poet 
Rogers. The concert was rather heavy, though we 
had a magnificent orchestra and many distinguished 
singers. At the close of the rehearsal, Pasta came. 
I scarcely recognized, in the smooth, round, good-hu- 
mored face I saw, the terrible Medea of an evening 



114 Thomas G, Appleton, 

previous. She sang one bravura with Rubini, and two 
sweet arias, that drew audible bravos.'* 

In the afternoon he visited the House of Com- 
mons. " It is just opposite Westminster Abbey ; but 
how unlike! It is small and dingy, with a gallery 
running all round it like any chapel, supported by 
pillars heavily gilt at the top, the only pretty thing in 
it being the Speaker's chair, which is high and has the 
royal arms over it. Sir Robert Peel was speaking as 
we entered. He was in white pants, and rather witty. 
A terribly long oration followed from a Dublin Uni- 
versity member, who denounced Althorp's bill, and 
was very statistical. After him Colonel French de- 
claimed in a polished and easy flow, amid unnoticed 
* hears * from the administration benches. Then, with 
a heavy step into the front row, down stepped O'Con- 
nell. He is of solid mold, tall and thick-featured, 
with a close, wiry head of hair. He gave a very 
spirited speech to back his honorable friend of the 
university. His manner is earnest, violent, and his 
deep voice has a rich brogue that gives point to many 
of his good things. He contradicted the administra- 
tion men often flatly, and seemed little afraid of any 
of them. O'Connell's sarcasm called forth a shuffling 
and stammering explanation from Lord Althorp. His 
tones are those of a querulous old man, and when I 
leaned forward and saw the silken whisker, erect car- 



London, 115 

riage, and dashy waistcoat of the noble lord, I could 
only conclude that too much politics had made him 
old in his prime. This * hear ' is peculiar. It often 
sounds like the cackle of a flock of geese when a 
stone is sent among them, and its constant chattering 
serves no other purpose than to deafen and confuse ; 
but a loud * hear, hear ! * when a fine speaker is in full 
swing of excitement, is to him as the shouts of the 
hunters to the lion. It calls the sparkle to the 
eye, and thunder to the tongue. . . . We walked 
up to Bentley's in New Burlington Street to get 
the new novels of Bulwer, James, and Disraeli, which | 
we had seen announced, but ascertained that in 
modern English 'being ready' means *not to be 
had.' " 

The Tower, the Zoological Gardens, Astley's, Chris- 
tie's, and St. Paul's, were all visited, inspected, and 
described, with the thoroughness of a conscientious 
tourist. Of the last he says : 

" The whispering- gallery is only the base of the 
dome, and any circular wall would, I should imagine, 
give the same effect. To try it, I put my mouth close 
to the wall, and whispered to the guide, who was on 
the opposite side — 

" * Who painted the pictures overhead ? ' 

" * Sir Christopher Wren,* came back, in confiden- 
tial and mendacious distinctness. The poor man had 



ii6 Thomas G. Applet on. 

but one answer for everything. They were painted by 
Thorndike. 

..." Billiards are played with three balls, a modi- 
fication of the French game. One evening I went into 
one of the billiard-saloons — a fine, showy hall. The 
marker offered to play me. It appears it is customary 
to bet something every game. I told him I should 
only risk sixpence, and, of course, should lose, as I 
never played their game before. Taking me for an 
Englishman, the man expressed surprise. I was in 
good play, and made some hits now and then, asking 
how to proceed, and beat him the first game. * No 
gammon, my covey,* said he. *You don't come the 
jerry over me ; you've played often enough. Anyhow, 
you're the best player that ever played on this 'ere 
table.* I blushed at the compliment, and, as I re- 
ceived his money at the end of the rub, I told him I 
was an American. 

''''May \()th. — This morning, while I was dawdling 
over a late breakfast, Dr. Holm, the phrenologist, was 
announced. I received him without ceremony. He 
dwelt with warmth upon Spurzheim, and our recep- 
tion of him in America, lectured me long on his sci- 
ence, and offered to examine my head. Certainly, the 
character which he read off instantly from my skull is 
true in several points. *You have,* said he, 'great 
affection ; where you attach yourself, you will love 



London, 1 1 7 

lastingly. You are cautious, and not hasty to accept 
new plans. You are very fond of natural scenery, and 
can remember and represent again any scene or view 
you may have seen. You prefer light and delicate to 
harsh and dark colors. You remember things and 
places, but are bad at dates and names. In music you 
have a bad time^ but are fond of harmony/ etc., etc. 
There must be something in this phrenology." 

Mr. John Lowell, in his cab, drove Mr. Appleton 
to Windsor, thence to Richmond, Twickenham, and 
Hampton Court. It was a little tour of a couple of 
days. After noting many things at Hampton Court, 
he says : 

" We at last came to the cartoons. Here the 
crowd we came with hurried through, but Lowell and 
I remained as long as the patience of our guide per- 
mitted. Though the colors appear faded, the fig- 
ures have fully retained their beauty of expression 
and design. The cartoons are water-colors on paper, 
and were intended to be transferred to tapestry. I 
feel all the high superiority of the divine Raphael. 
There are faces here that none but he could have con- 
ceived. I shall always bear within me their excellence 
as my standard." 

These are doubtless the famous cartoons for tapes- 



ii8 Thomas G. Appleton. 

try designs which Raphael drew for Leo X, purchased 
by Charles I at the suggestion of Van Dyck. 

..." At eleven, I drove to Mrs. Wiggin's ball, 
and found the first quadrille commenced. Madame, 
in a gold turban, received me at the entrance. I 
danced with the prettiest girl in the room. She 
pointed out to me the celebrities — among others. Lord 
Somebody, who traveled all over Europe as a Swiss 
female minstrel. I was introduced to an ugly damsel, 
with whom I went through the dance likewise. The 
party was lamentably like our own — the same over- 
dressed creatures, chattering and smiling about and 
at they knew not what ; the same heat, the same 
affected conversation. The quadrille is an immense 
one, and the figures appear to differ somewhat from 
ours. Madame asked me if I valtzed j but I declined 
the grip of one of these stalwart Venuses. I got 
home by one, walking the whole way, through blind 
alleys full of rowdy characters. As I stepped into 
bed, it occurred to me that I had not dined, and in- 
stantly I became rabid with hunger." 

A horticultural fete at Keswick, with Mr. Low- 
ell, was the last excursion from London, and the 
month closed with the festivities connected with the 
king's birthday. King William held a lez'ife at St 
James's. 



London. 119 

"The windows of the coroneted carriages were 
open, and fair creatures in jewelry and feathers, and 
grim warriors in scarlet uniforms, alternately smiled 
and glowered at us. The windows, verandas, etc., 
were alive with spectators. v 

" In the evening the illuminations presented a gay 
appearance. 'R. W.,* in vari- colored lamps, shone 
loyally ; but it struck me oddly that the king should 
celebrate his birthday so long before it comes off. It 
looks as if he were determined not to be forestalled by 
Death of any amusement it might afford. 

*' Just before twelve Mr. Lowell called for me, in 
his cab, and we drove to Willis's Rooms, King Street, 
St. James's, for tickets had been applied for to the ball, 
and Princess Lieven had us upon her list. In a side- 
hall we presented our tickets, paying a guinea each, 
and were shown up-stairs to the grand ball-room — 
that El Dorado to the adventurers of haut-torty that 
promised Canaan to the tribe of toadies, that spot of 
bitterness to the swarms of the disappointed, the holy 
of holies of the temple of Fashion ! 

" Quadrilles were just forming as we entered. It 
is a noble hall, profusely bright with wax-candles, and 
carved and relieved in white on a pink ground in a 
very pretty manner. 

"This was a brilliant evening on account of the 
birthday festivities. I will describe the dress of one 



I20 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

of the finest women in the room, with a queenly ex- 
pression of rank. Her face was Grecian, and the hair 
close in front and on top without ornament, save a 
broad, classical fillet of simple gold round the head. 
A massive but simple gold necklace reclined on her 
uncovered shoulders. Her dress was white, tastefully- 
embroidered with flowers in different colors. 

"The dress of the men was, in most cases, an 
unbuckramed, skin-like coat, long, and with broad 
flaps, a stock, colored waistcoat, pants pyramidal to 
the ankle, stockings open-work and high colored ;'add 
quizzing-glass, hat (not opera), cane, and mustache 
a discretion^ and you have the ball-costume of an 
English gentleman, a. d. 1833. 

" Waltzing and gallopades were oftener than quad- 
rilles. Gallopade is a huge square, the figure appar- 
ently at the fancy of the dancers, taking care they 
keep time. There were more young people — awk- 
ward lads with painfully correct hair, and unfledged 
misses — than I expected. Mothers walked about with 
their daughters, as it were to display their wares ; fat 
old ladies waddled like moving phosphorescences, 
each, like the toad, bearing a precious jewel in her 
head. When the dancing struck up, a green cord was 
held by the servants to dispart the dancers from the 
rest. The refreshments were simple to plainness, 
little else but coffee and sandwiches ; the cake what 



London, 1 2 1 

we call * President's biscuit.' The English affect 
French a good deal ; one hears it constantly- at 
parties. 

" May ^pth. — This morning we four parted, Bar- 
nard for the north of England, the Motleys for Amer- 
ica, and I for France, by way of Brighton. Till I was 
off, the morning was agony, with bills and botheration. 
I took my place on the box of the Brighton coach with 
singular satisfaction, having shaken hands with my 
friends, and shaken off the waiters ; at ten precisely 
we cracked away. The lion of Northumberland 
House held his tail stiffer than ever as we swept 
under it. The Abbey looked sad and solemn. 

''Soon, with unstifled lungs, I was with delight 
looking back upon the smoke and hubbub of the 
great Babylon. 

*'In leaving London, I must say that hospitality 
of all sorts has been offered me. I have seen nothing 
of John Bull's noli me tangere spirit, but have found 
everywhere the reverse." 

This was in spite of a conirete?nps which deprived 
Mr. Appleton of all his letters of introduction, among 
them those given him by John Howard Payne, who 
was in Boston the winter before, and who had re- 
ceived the hospitality of Mr. Appleton's dinner-club. 
Mr. Payne gave to Appleton and Hooper letters to 

many of his friends — O'Connell was one of them. 
II 



122 Thomas G. Applet on. 

All the letters were seized on Tom's person when he 
arrived in London by an over-zealous customs official, 
and, although unsealed, were put by him in the post- 
office for their various destinations. For long after- 
ward the unfortunate young gentlemen were hunted 
up from time to time by some of the more civil yet 
naturally irritated recipients of these letters, who knew 
not where to seek the persons so highly recommended 
to them. Mr. Appleton used to give an amusing ac- 
count of these interviews, and the annoyance caused 
by his apparently innocent mode of sending the^ let- 
ters. 

On the I St of June, Thomas crossed the Channel 
from Brighton to Dieppe, and took his mental farewell 
of Old England — "bade adieu to her plump daugh- 
ters and serious sons, her nectarian ale and her patri- 
cian turbot, her melting mutton, her velvet lawns, her 
roads, her coats, her cabs, her umbrellas, and, thank 
Heaven, her charges ! " 



1 



CHAPTER VIII. 

PARIS. 
1833- 

" Paris, June 6th. — Why did I waste my substance 
— why did I lose patience, money, comfort, and time in 
the smoke of the island Babylon — when dear, delight- 
ful Paris was within a jump ? Experience must be 
bought, and I have bought it. Would that all the 
money that London ravished from my pocket were 
there again, to circulate in the natural veins of Paris ! 

" Paris is as unlike London as fire and fog, yet 
some people ask me which I like best ! No money 
can purchase in London comfort ; in Paris, every sou 
returns a throb through the whole man. To come to 
details : 

" In London, at breakfast, you have a little coffee- 
pot, little milk-pot, and little muffin. Here, caf/ au 
lait brings a garcon to you, with a huge pot in each 
hand — one is for coffee, the other milk. He pours 
the cafi till you cry, * Tenez I * and then dashes the 
whole cup with hot milk. This is but one instance, to 



124 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

show that this people certainly understand the philos- 
ophy of living better than their fellow-creatures ; and 
all the wonder is that they are not universally imi- 
tated. 

" I went into the garden of the Tuileries. In a 
moment I was as if in the melancholy of primeval 
forests. Embracing trees make twilight and silence, 
unbroken save by giddy bursts of sunshine and the 
song of birds. Pay a sou, take a chair, and read 
Beranger, as uninterrupted as in a desert ; or, if you 
have him not in your pocket, step from the 'w'ood, 
and as far as the dark, carved palace, and your eye 
is dazzled by sparkling water and gleaming marble. 
Here gold-fishes leap from their circular oceans to the 
sun, there Apollo strains the monster python. A hun- 
dred statues appear through the trees. I walked be- 
side the banks of the Seine, passing many a noble 
bridge, till I came to the Pont de Concorde, lined with 
gigantic and exquisite statues of the French heroes — 
Bayard, Conde, Du Guesclin, etc. ; it is, indeed, noble 
in effect. 

^^ June "jfh. — Dined at the famous cafd ' Les Trois 
Freres Proven^aux.* The quantity of glass in Paris 
is astonishing ; the houses are all open, and the fre- 
quent glass realizes the idea of every one's carrying a 
window in his bosom. Mirrors, that the Trojan horse 
might have seen himself in, reflect you at every turn. 



Paris, 125 

A good cafd is all mirrors. My parlor is ornamented 
with a very elegant clock and three immense mirrors. 
I have a capital salon and bedroom in the Prince Re- 
gent Hotel — quiet, and but a step from the Tuileries. 

" This morning my valet made his appearance, hat 
in hand. He is a spruce, lively fellow, and will be of 
great service in lionizing and conversation. He put 
my room to rights, and arranged my wardrobe in the 
most knowing manner." 

Three of Mr. Appleton's friends (Drs. Holmes, 
Hooper, and Warren) were studying medicine in Paris, 
so that he had no lack of congenial companionship ; 
and with them, or under the guidance of the valet, 
Frangois, he went through a course of the lions of 
Paris, which, like those of London, are now too familiar 
to bear description. The Place Vend6me, the Louvre, 
the Luxembourg, Frascati's, the Gobelin tapestries, 
received attention on the first days after his arrival. 

*' June ^th. — As this was Sunday, I gave the lions 
a day's peace. I met Baker in the street, and went 
with him to visit a friend of his. What was my aston- 
ishment to find in this friend Sam Ward, with impe- 
rials, and the disguise of a perfectly French manner ! 
No one would doubt he was French. 

"After a dinner at Prev6t*s, the medicals and I 
sat in the Palais Royal, and watched the gambols of 



126 Tho77tas G, Appleton, 

the children. Though I was prepared to hear them 
speak French, they were the source of great amuse- 
ment ; they dress prettily and oddly, have fine eyes 
and redundant hair, and play together like embryo 
Frenchmen. 

"After amusing ourselves on the Boulevards, we 
dropped into a theatre des enfants. The theatre is 
little, and the performers all children. They played 
with great spirit ; one girl did admirably. Mothers 
bring their good children here to reward them. A 
fine nest of young Burkes ! 

"At the Pantheon we were shown the tomb of 
Rousseau ; it is the real one, transported from its 
former place. It has reliefs on it. One, a projecting 
hand setting fire to a world, is very just. Vis-a-vis is 
the tomb of his arch-rival Voltaire. AVe saw the tombs 
of many of the generals of France, and should have 
seen more, but one of the party, John Bull, cried out, 
* Seeing one is seeing a thousand — let's be off ! ' and 
as he was the majority, off we came. 

" Yesterday, while I was dining at a cafe^ a whole 
English family entered and took a table ; as was pres- 
ently evident, not one of them spoke a word of French. 
In vain did the polite waiter offer them the treasures 
of gastronomy, they could appreciate nothing. But, 
at last, in connection with bifteck^ he mentioned d 
VAnglaise^ and the whole clump cried out, '' Oui, out/* 



Paris. 127 

Miladi smiled on the waiter her broadest grin, and he 
hurried for bifteck a VA7iglaise. At the Opera Comique 
the other night, in * Fra Diavolo,' there was an EngUsh 
lord caricatured to the life. He has red hair, and an 
immense drab surtout, with huge buttons, long waist, 
and low pockets. It is a good pendant to Mathews's 
Frenchman. 

" At the Cafe de Paris, the room was full of Eng- 
lish, but there was one good specimen of the Parisian 
dandy. His hair was parted, and fell sleek to the 
neck, and there formed a ridge of curls round the 
head. His collar was turned over, and sustained by 
a complicated mass of black silk. He had a figured 
gilef^ and large cossack ; white pantaloons, very wide 
at the boot. His coat was huge, and the broad flaps 
were rounded at the end. Huge rings were on every 
finger. Moreover, he was young and handsome. It 
must be said that the men here do not dress with at all 
the taste of Englishmen ; but the ladies — mon Dieu ! 
they are simplicity itself ! 

^^ June 12th. — After dinner I took a parterre-seat 
in the Opera Fran^ais. The house is large and hand- 
some, and cut up into different portions, each with a 
different price. The pit is very nice, with velvet seats ; 
and the utmost order prevails. Gens-d' arfnes at the 
door are ready to repress the least trouble ; but none 
occurs. If one wishes to leave the theatre for a while, 



128 Thomas G. Appleton, 

and keep his seat, he puts thereon his opera-glass and 
gloves, and, were he gone the whole evening, would be 
sure to find them untouched on his return. 

" The opera was * La Tentation,' and consisted in 
the devices of the evil- one to seduce a holy monk. 
The music is not very good, but the subject gives full 
scope to the wild taste for diablerie which seems at 
present to prevail. One scene in the crater of a vol- 
cano, where the fiend reviews his army, was magnifi- 
cently terrible. There were full two hundred persons 
on the stage, and all as devils. The army marched to 
a full band of infernal drummers, and little fiends for 
pipers, headed by the sapeurs of hell. The garde na- 
tionale of the brimstone country, with horned heads, 
curved and hacked cimiters, and pale - green mus- 
taches, appeared next ; and in the rear followed a mul- 
titude of she-devils and young Zamiels. In another 
place we looked into the recesses of heaven, and saw 
afar a band of angels singing, with harp and lute, the 
praise of God. The cold, silver light falling on the 
purity of their robes, contrasted well with the devilish 
glare upon the evil army in the foreground. 

^^ June i^th. — At half-past eight in the morning 
Warren and I took a gondola for Versailles ; when 
there, after a slight breakfast, visited the palace. It 
is gorgeous as a lavish taste could make it. The 
pictures are not generally very good — that is to say, 



Paris, 129 

they are mostly French. The gardens are the perfec- 
tion of mathematical beauty — 

' Trees cut to statues, statues thick as trees ' — 

' Grove nods to grove — each alley has a brother,' etc. 

It is all as Pope says, even to the swallows in ' Nilus* 
dusty urn,' for all the fountains were rusty for want 
of use. 

^''June 16th. — After the theatre the Boulevard was 
a gay scene. Thousands in merry moods throng the 
walks. The glass windows of the cafe's reveal the 
blaze of day. Venders of all things invite at every 
step ; here a thousand clocks of gold protrude into 
the gutter, and there rich prints strew the earth. Now 
a man pulls your arm to sell you a waistcoat, and 
anon another to show you his dancing fleas. Your 
eye glides over a gay mass of frolic. Here an image 
Turk turns his head in grave slowness up and down, 
and there a wooden Othello stabs a plaster Desdemo- 
na. All is fun, and fla?ieurs riot in the witching hour. 
In their mood, I stepped into one of the thousand 
spectacles. A man had a collection of wise birds. A 
lovely girl took a franc from me, and I found I had 
bought the best place in the theatre, while all the 
other spectators were behind me ; thus, unfortunately, 
I had to do all the card-shuffling, etc., for the com- 
pany. The birds could pick marked cards from a 



130 Thomas G. Appleton. 

heap, make out the names of towns by letters, etc. ; 
but the poor things were rather too sleepy to work, 
and we were given tickets to come again when they 
were more awake. My position drew upon me several 
severe jokes. 

^^June I'jfh. — Holmes and I actually were at the 
Louvre this morning three hours instead of one, such 
was the seduction of the masters. 

" O Salvator Rosa, thou king of the terrible ; O 
Rubens, emperor of glowing flesh and vermeil lips ; 
Rembrandt, sullen lord of brown shades and light- 
ning lights ; O Cuyp, magician of sunny twilights ; 
Raphael, thou prince of painters ; O Wouverman, 
thou Mars of tumult and battle-smoke ; O Teniers, 
Thyrsites of the canvas ; O Titian, thou god of noble 
eyes and rich, warm life ; O Veronese, apostle of the 
Marriage Feast ; and last, not least, Murillo, thou Burns 
of the cottage and the shed — when shall I repay you 
all for the high happiness of this day? 

" In the evening I attended the most Parisian of 
feteSy Tivoli. I was admitted to an extensive grove, 
brilliant with colored lamps and vocal with a hundred 
musicians. Laughing groups of well-dressed Parisians 
lounged under the trees, or to the music twinkled their 
pretty feet. Here it is that the fair milliner, the fairer 
goddess of the caf^, and the nonchalant do-nothing, 
meet in common revel. I wandered as chance guided. 



Paris. 131 

A boat in full sail, holding a laughing party, whirled 
over my head on a circular cruise in the air. Quadrilles 
were performed on the turf, and lovers turned aside 
to the darker alleys of the wood. A man put a pistol 
in my hand ; I pulled the trigger, a rocket shot through 
the skies, and, as it hit a metal bird, a shower of fire 
fell around. I pass on ; pantomime rules the mo- 
ment. Harlequin eats whole puddings at a swallow, 
and plays a thousand tricks. Cafe blazes before me 
in many-colored letters. A party is watching a game 
in which a Frenchman strikes his ball into a hole and 
wins — a flower. * Blanche ou rouge ? ' asks the win- 
ner, of a pretty girl at his side. 'Blanche,' whisper 
her rosy lips. * Excellent ! c'est I'image d'innocence et 
de vertu,* he replies, and fastens the rose to her bosom 
with an insinuating bow. I try my luck at archery ; 
lose thirty sous, but do not hit the target ; the arrows 
are charmed. From a stupendous height the rope- 
swinger careers in air. He twists and turns till, alas ! 
he falls headlong from the rope. A cry of horror 
bursts from fair lips. The rogue ! he is laughing at 
them, while he holds the rope securely in one hand. 
Vive la bagatelle ! 

^^ June 20th. — We made a party and dined at the 
Rocher de Cancale, the crack eating-house described 
in * Pelham,' and had a capital dinner. . . . Went to 
the Theatre Frangais in the evening. Mdlle. Mars 



132 Thomas G, Appleton. 

played in two pieces ; her acting is nature, with those 
little but true touches that belong to genius. She is 
very quiet in manner ; her modulation is distinct and 
delicate, and in verse you seem not to hear the re- 
straints of rhyme, but only metrical prose. As she 
manages it, I have no objection to dramatic rhythm. 
Though not exactly looking young (she is fifty-seven !), 
yet her fine face and figure supply the loss of youth, 
and she has the pleasure of knowing she is an old and 
established favorite. 

"June 21st — This morning I took my catalogue 
and gave the statues at the Louvre a cool and thor- 
ough examination. I was all alone, save as at inter- 
vals I passed a rusty and pale student with his bread 
and crayons. I enjoy this gallery as much as the other. 
Surrounded by these triumphs of the Roman chisel, I 
can easily picture in my mind all the splendor of the 
imperial city. I see the Pompeiian circus that this gi- 
gantic Melpomene once guarded ; and the Appian Way, 
gorgeous with these very statues of the emperors, runs 
into white perspective to my eye. Here are the origi- 
nals of the * Diane a la biche' and ' The Fighting Glad- 
iator.' How unlike the plaster copies ! The muscles 
of the gladiator positively tremble with fatigue, and the 
stain of centuries but deepens the haggard and weary 
earnestness of his furrowed countenance. He seems 
to spring from the pedestal. The busts of the em.- 



Paris. 133 

perors are most interesting. We are certain of their 
fidelity, and can fancy we see them live. Trajan has 
the lowest forehead I ever saw. Germanicus is the 
amiable and graceful youth I expected ; Nero, a hand- 
some sensualist ; Nerva, admirably Roman. 

"I went up-stairs and met Brown, just going to 
visit a private French collection, and joined him. 
The house was far toward the barrier, and the col- 
lection a famous one. The picture we were most 
pleased with is one by Constable. It is as fine a land- 
scape as I ever saw, and wholly above those in the 
London exhibitions. There were also good Rubenses, 
Murillos, and Ruysdaels. We took a walk in the gar- 
den — very beautiful, with statues, grottoes, and water ; 
there we met the wealthy owner of this little villa. 
He expressed pleasure at showing us his collection, 
and proved himself a man of taste by his comments 
upon his own pictures. 

" I dined with M. Henri, my French teacher, en 
famille. He has a pretty little daughter, from whom 
I dare say I shall learn more French than from any 
one else. Little girls talk faster and more prettily 
than men. As I paced the Boulevard, I looked in 
upon the wise birds, but they were not visible. 

^^ June 22d. — I got from Galignani the 'Sketch-, 

Book ' to re-read. How true Irving is in the narrative 

of the sea-voyage and the effect of * land ! ' on an 
12 



134 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

American ! The poetry of the cottages and emerald 
fields of England was not lost upon him. I inquire 
here often for the Saint-Simonians. They are a dis- 
carded tribe. The only one I have seen is a student 
in the Louvre, with flowing hair, one-sided hat, and 
brown robes, the costume of their sect. 

^^ June 2-7,d. — After procuring a fresh supply of 
francs from my banker, I put one of my father's 
speeches in my pocket and went to call on Lafay- 
ette. Unfortunately, he had the day before gone to 
the country. Visited Percival, and we arranged plans 
for Swiss travel. At sight of the map, and Lake 
Geneva, I became furious to be off. I want to be 
among the glaciers, and to hear the cry of the lammer- 
geyer. Percival carried me to the expiatory chapel 
of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette. It is very beau- 
tiful, and the sad sentiments of Louis's will, and 
Marie's last letter, breathe from the storm into the 
tranquil chapel a pathetic solemnity. The chapel was 
begun by Louis XIII, and finished by Charles the 
Bigot, who put a finishing touch to every church he 
could find. . . . 

" In the evening I went to the Gymnase, and was 
kept in a laugh the whole evening by Perlet, a capital 
actor, who was the life of two excellent vaudevilles. 
A vaudeville is a comedy interspersed with songs set 
to popular tunes ; it is very common with the French, 



Paris. 135 

and quite their /(^r/^, as the spirit and vivacity of their 
conversational language give a sparkle to every tete- 
h-tete. 

" These French are a very strange people. It is 
easier to like than to esteem them ; yet all that re- 
lates to biensdance is irreproachable, and their bon- 
homie is universal. You ask a man the way, and he 
will go to the end of the street to show you. It is 
their politeness that prevents them from laughing at 
foreigners. There is no chance of meeting at a caf^ 
that surly and grumbling tone so common in London. 
But the French are an ugly nation. The animal is 
stamped indelibly on their features. I do not think 
I have seen an intellectual head since my arrival. 
They dress badly. They are inferior in size to the 
English ; the soldiers are short, sallow, and look ill- 
fed. If by accident a man elongates into a grenadier, 
he is not stout and plump like an English one, but 
seems ready to break down under his mountainous cap. 

" Whenever I see a body of these troops moving to 
its lifeless music, I can not help pitying it as a sort 
of animated corpse. The soul is fled. The voice that 
called to victory is still. Under One, the French sol- 
dier could dare impossibilities ; now he falls back into 
an ill-fed animal. These same troops, with Napoleon 
at their head, would be a terror to their enemies ; now 
they are harmless. 



136 Thomas G, Apple ton. 

"... As I passed the Chateau d'Eau, the finest 
fountain in Paris was playing beautifully. These 
fountains are very numerous, and in hot weather are 
the most refreshing sights in the world. They consti- 
tute one of the chief beauties of Paris. 

" I descended a flight of steps from the Pont-Neuf, 
the oldest bridge in Paris, with a fine equestrian 
bronze statue of Henri IV, to try one of the many 
baths of the Seine. They all consist of a large, open 
square, into which every one turns, having little stalls 
for clothes. The water was only up to the waist of 
the hundred bathers, and was too turbid to suit one 
accustomed to ocean freshness. On getting home, 
I found a packet of letters. I danced with de- 
light. 

" In the evening we went to the Cirque Olym- 
pique, as there was to be a r^prhentaiion extraordi- 
naire^ and extremely so it was. The house not be- 
ing full, the actors did not attend, and no piece was 
played after the first. There was an uproar, in the 
midst of which a fellow in the third row sprang upon 
the railing, and made a violent speech to the house 
upon the indecency of keeping the whole waiting, not 
to mention its stupidity and weariness. He finished 
his speech by offering his services to supply the place 
of the defaulter, who was to have given imitations ; so 
saying, he ran down, crossed the pit, climbed the 



Paris. 137 

stage, and began, to the wonder of the artistes of the 
stage, who stared at him from behind the scenes. 

" y>//v isi. — The Louvre again. What originality 
and genius there is in Poussin's * Deluge ' ! I saw it 
suddenly lit up by bursts of light, and the effect was 
admirable. It seems as if the faint lightning shone 
between the falling sheets. The snake on the rocks 
seems actually to snore, and the upright suppliant in 
the boat has life. From studying Poussin's land- 
scapes, I am satisfied that Allston has copied him ; 
his early landscapes are very much in his style — the 
same hard, cold foreground, the pebbly water, the de- 
fined bushes. 

" J^^y 4^^- — At six we were to celebrate the great 
anniversary at the hotel next Frascati's. We found 
the committee, with blue ribbons at their front, at the 
door to welcome us, and were ushered into a large 
anteroom, amid a crowd of fellow-countrymen. In 
a few minutes General Lafayette, his son, and grand- 
son, entered and shook hands all round. The dinner 
was soon served ; about eighty sat down, and the pe- 
culiar occasion, the gay table, and the splendid hall, 
made it most interesting. A large band — large, but 
not very good — stunned us at intervals. 'Yankee 
Doodle ' made the table ring to the glasses, and was 
encored. It strung my feeling to a higher pitch of 
patriotism than I thought possible. Afterward there 



138 Thomas G, Applet on. 

were toasts and speeches. The hero, in broken Eng- 
lish, finished his speech by a toast referring to our 
late crisis : * Public common sense, may it hereafter 
always be the arbiter of all difficulties ! ' 

^^ July 6th. — This morning I was up betimes. The 
day before, smitten with the irresistible beauty of the 
boy of Raphael leaning on his hand, I resolved to 
copy it. For a trifle I had bought an easel, etc., 
written for permission to the director, and at ten this 
morning I was at the door. I strode down the inter- 
minable gallery like Napoleon, found the dear boy, 
more lovely than ever, and con amore dashed him in, 
in dead colors, finishing that part by four, the hour 
the rooms are closed. This boy of Raphael is, per- 
haps, the sweetest thing in the gallery ; it is brilliant 
with excess of finish, and, in my two or three days, 
I can not expect to get more than a sketch, but it will 
serve to remind me of the divine original. I found 
that by returning to my old pleasure I obtained a 
more active sense of the excellence of the pictures 
about me, I had forgotten how difficult it is to 
produce effects ; it carried me home to my dark 
room and the hard, lifeless abortions of my pen- 
cil. 

^^ July 1th. — Heard the celebrated Abbe Chatel, 
one of the most eloquent preachers of Paris. His 
church is Unitarian ; it was founded in the year 1831 



Paris, 139 

by the abbe, and calls itself the Fre?uh Catholic 
Church. The house is very simple, and similar to 
many of our plain Unitarian temples. After the 
messe^ and burning of incense before the altar, the 
abb^ began his discourse. It was extemporaneous, 
against dueling. The abbe is a fine-looking man, his 
voice clear, and his action animated. Though short, 
the sermon was sensible and eloquent. There are no 
pews in the French churches ; they are full of the 
same cheap chairs that fill the Tuileries and Palais 
Royal. The old lady bustled about for her two sous, 
and the chink of money did not help the religious 
effect. After the discourse, the abb6 read portions of 
a new catechism he has published for young and old. 
It is his ' Creed and Reasons,' and, as it was curious, 
I bought one. The abb^ believes Christ to have been 
a man, but for his excellence to be worshiped. He 
disbelieves in his bodily resurrection, and discredits 
the miracles. He told his hearers that, when they 
worshiped in a Roman Catholic church, they must not 
adore the symbols and images, but the Almighty ; 
all else was to receive but a formal and secondary 
worship. He thinks himself about identical with the 
English Unitarians ; but he seems to me to go further 
than we do. 

" J^^y ^^^' — -^11 "t^y pla-ns for presenting the good 
folks with a Raphael are dashed, for Monday no one 



140 Thomas G, Appleton. 

is admitted to the Louvre, and losing this day ends 
the matter. I will leave the canvas till I return, and 
then perhaps finish. 

^^ July gth. — This morning Francois, whom I have 
taken into service again, packed my trunk and made 
things all ready to be off. He brought home my 
passport yesterday, having worked all day carrying it 
from one ambassador to another. * There, sir,* said 
he, as he handed me the bestamped and besigned 
paper, * I think there is not a country in Europe 
your honor can not visit now ! * I have consigned 
my Raphael to Brown, and am quite anxious to 
be off ; I have seen pretty much all one should see, 
and have no excuse for staying now but to eat good 
dinners. 

^^ July 10th. — At one o'clock p. m. I should have 
been at the Messagerie Royale, but, by an aberration of 
the knowing Franfois, found myself at the wrong one. 
As I reached the right place, I was told that the coach 
had just started, with all my luggage on it. After the 
necessary sac-r-r-r-is^ I jumped into a cab, and told 
the astonished driver he must overtake the diligence 
before the barrier. Stung by money, he was success- 
ful, and by two I was rumbling over the rugged pave 
in the intMeur. 

" I have for the last month lived in the spirit of 
Beranger's ' Song of Jean de Paris ' ; with Jean — 



Paris. 1 4 1 

' Proclamant sur son ame, 
En prose ainsi qu'en vers 
Les tours de Notre-Dame, 
Centre de I'univers.' 

Whether I shall say 'ay * to his cry — 
' Reviens dans ton Paris ' — 

I know not, but for the present I have, with Jean, got 
the traveling mania, and repeat with him — 

' Quittons nous cette ville unique. 
Nous voyageons — Paris a dos.' " 

Mr. Percival, who is mentioned here for the first 
time, was an Englishman, the younger son of an 
English nobleman, whose family name he bore. He 
subsequently joined Mr. Appleton, and they traveled 
together ; the friendship between them became warm 
and lasting. A little pencil-drawing in one of the 
sketch-books, under which is lightly scribbled the 
name " Percival," gives a pleasant glimpse of a thought- 
ful, genial face, in the turn of the head not unlike the 
pictures of Burns. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY. 

Having left Paris, Mr. Appleton, with his friends 
Mr. Russell and Mr. Percival, went by diligence to 
Dijon, where they took post-horses for Geneva, enjoy- 
ing every moment of a journey of some days, which is 
now made so swiftly by rail that all details are lost. 

'* We walked the third day almost the whole of the 
first post. The pure air of the mountains was ex- 
hilarating, and, with Byron in my hand, I chased the 
goats from peak to peak. A thousand lovely, rare 
plants and flowers were under our feet. The delicate 
bluebell azured the cliffs, wild-pinks and the beauti- 
ful family of the mosses drew us hither and thither. 
I filled my hands with the variety of flowers. 

"We had started at seven, and about two hours 
after, by an abrupt turn, the checkered mosaic of the 
Pays de Vaud, the blue crescent of Leman, and the 
brown roofs of Geneva, burst upon our sight. The 
Spirit of the Mist was not our friend. He drew his 



Switzerland and Germany. 143 

shadowy battalions before our eyes, and veiled in 
cloud the icy turrets of the monarch of the mountains, 
giving us but shifting glimpses of the lake and plain. 
The coup (Toeil reminded me strongly of the view from 
Mount Holyoke. Lake Leman is fairly matched at a 
distance by the Connecticut. After winding a few 
miles through the softly wooded plain, we stopped out- 
side Geneva, at a most neat and English-like inn. 
From my window I have a bit of the vivid blue of the 
lake, with nearer a broken foreground of rich trees, 
and can dimly discern afar the snow-streaked form of 
Mont Blanc. 

^^ July 16th. — After shaking the dust from our ha- 
biliments, we entered the town and crossed by two 
bridges the whirling and deeply azure current of the 
Rhone, along which sheds of blanchisseuses make music 
with their bats." 

They visited Ferney and the chateau of Madame 
de Stael ; like all good tourists, bought bijouterie at 
Geneva, and made the tour of the lake, visiting Lau- 
sanne, Vevay, and Chillon, and then, with knapsacks 
and other preparations for walking, leaving heavy bag- 
gage to be forwarded to Milan, they went up to Cha- 
mounix. 

" After dinner, having amused ourselves visiting a 
mineral collection and a live chamois, and buying 



144 Thomas G. Appleton. 

rings of chamois-horn, we walked to the glacier of 
Bossons. After tramping vainly over the fields, and a 
toilsome march up a wooded hill, we heard a tramp 
as of wild colts, and, looking up, I found two men, 
six or seven boys, and an old woman let loose on us. 
One put an iron-shod staif in my hand, and they all 
offered service as guides. We insisted we should pay 
but one, come who might. This they heeded not, and, 
as I looked round while we were climbing, I should 
have thought we were a family of squatters. Some 
bore shoes for the .ice, others axes, all poles, and the 
old lady brandy on a waiter. I asked one of these 
intelligent citizens if they loved the king. * Oh, yes ! * 
* What is his name ? * * I do not know that,' was the 
reply." 

The excursion to Montanvert, and the Mer de 
Glace, was much like that of ordinary tourists, before 
and since ; more exceptional is the account of a cir- 
cuit of Mont Blanc, to take five days. 

^^ July 2^th. — We engaged Payot, whom we much 
liked, to be ready at three that afternoon, with a mule 
to carry our knapsacks. After a lunch of bread and 
gruylre^ the common cheese of the country (full of 
holes and not good), Russell and I started, bidding 
farewell to Mr. Percival, whom we hope to meet at 
Martigny. As we left the valley, the air was so pure 



Switzerland and Germany. 145 

and cloudless that we obtained an unusually fine 
view of the range of mountains. We took our mule 
alternately, and she, with astonishing sure-footedness, 
bore us by yawning precipices. In our gay caps and 
worked frocks we made, no doubt, a smart appearance, 
but one soon sinks the picturesque in the comfortable. 
As we advanced, the setting sun hung the mountains 
with scarlet robes, and gave the glaciers and aiguilles 
a delicate couleur de rose. The scenery was of the 
wildest character, but the path abominable, being 
often the bed of a running brook. At last we were 
housed in a nice inn at St. Gervais, the landlady 
being a particular friend of citoyen Payot — we hav- 
ing come at least twenty-five miles. Our guide has 
cheered us with the story of a German who has just 
been robbed by three banditti in masks, within an 
hour of St. Bernard. The rogues had carbines, and 
he nothing, with but a boy for a guide. They took 
from him six hundred francs, and returned him forty 
for road expenses, and his watch. We have heard 
since that the robbers were taken. They were three 
brothers ; they were detected somehow by the boy- 
guide, who knew them in spite of their masks. 

*^ July 26th. — We started this morning at six. The 
first thing we saw was the Pont de Diable, under 
which, far below, a torrent howls amid fearful rocks. 

No peasant dares pass this bridge after dark ; the 
13 



146 Thomas G. Appleton. 

legend relating to it I had from my guide. It ap- 
pears the devil had the bridge made, with the pro- 
viso that he should have the first person that crossed. 
After consultation, the peasants sent a cat over, at 
which the devil was so furious that he snatched a 
stone from out the bridge and threw it at the cat. 
No other stone can be found to fit the place of this 
one. Before the devil could throw another, a priest 
advanced with eau benite and exorcised him. With 
such tales our merry Payot beguiles the way. The 
day was most delightful ; we passed half a dozen 
beautiful cascades, and one covered with a lively rain- 
bow. All we did yesterday, however, was but play to 
to-day's work. We ascended, after four hours' labor, 
the Mont de Bon Homme, crowned with two castel- 
lated rocks — the good man and his son. For three 
hours we were wading in snow up to our knees ; it was 
often red as if with streaks of blood ; just after cross- 
ing a bridge of ice, we came to the grave of three 
ladies who perished here in a storm ; below was that of 
their three servants, who dragged a little farther. We 
arduously ascended the Col des Fours to the very top. 
The guide assures us this is ' the finest view in the 
whole Alps.' I am sure I shall never forget it. We 
stood alone above the world ; about us was the whole 
amphitheatre of the Alps, with all their garniture of 
cloud and glacier. On one side, as from an infernal 



Switzerland and Germany. 147 

gulf, boiled up fantastic and gigantic masses of vapor, 
at times sweeping over the view a momentary veil. 
It seemed, indeed, like chaos ; cloud, water, and earth, 
mingled in unorganized order. The sky overhead was 
a faint purple, and around us the most vivid blue. 
The air was so rare and pure that everything was seen 
in startling distinctness. When inhaled, it tickled all 
the throat, and seemed to pierce the pores as with fine 
needles. We took short breaths, and could not go far 
without resting. I felt a most new and delightful ex- 
hilaration ; it was the intoxication of the gods, look- 
ing down upon a prostrate world. The mountain is 
eight thousand feet above the sea. To fortify our- 
selves, we ate a snow-ball drenched with ktrschwas- 
ser^ and at last, with slow steps, left this heaven. 

*' The guide showed me where once he surprised 
an eagle carrying off a marmot, who, frightened, 
dropped his prey, and the guide took it home for 
supper. He knew no such bird as the lammer-geyer, 
and says the avalanche is never called the lawine ! 
Coming down, the hill would have made a magnifi- 
cent * coast,' and I felt the want of * Nimble Dick.* 
We stopped in the valley at a little hut, the ideal of an 
Irish cabin. It is the worst place I ever was in. 
Into the parlor — the sole room — all sorts of animals 
have at times made entrance to greet us — pigs, goats, 
horses, calves, and cats. The air rings with the cries 



148 Thomas G. Appleton. 

of animals, broken only by the shrill treble of two or 
three babe-lings in this one room. The mother man- 
ages the baby in the coolest manner : the thing is put 
into a cradle, nothing but its hand left out, and then 
it is strapped down in primitive style. Good milk, 
which even here was boiled for coffee, and eggs over 
which, according to rule, three paters had been said, 
made a good supper ; I made madame dry the sheets 
before the fire ere she put them on the straw mat- 
tress. Our hut is quite an original experience, one of 
the sort of things one prefers to look back upon to 
having present. 

*'^ July 2'jth. — It appears, the house is divided into 
three apartments : the one we occupied and filled ; 
another is the parlor, kitchen, and nuptial-chamber of 
our hosts ; the third is devoted to the beasts. The 
walls, the floor, and ceiling, are all rough boards, so 
that through the cracks we had a general supei*vision 
all round. Glad of any couch, we stretched out our 
weary limbs on the hard straw in hopes of sleep. 
Things promised well until some imp pinched the 
child in the next room, which struck up a shrieky solo 
instantly met with an obligato from every animal on 
the premises. This positively continued until dawn. 
It was the choral song of fiends over a guilty soul. 
Bells tinkled, mules brayed, goats baa-ed, pigs grunt- 
ed, babes shrieked with varying misery, and at times 



Switzerland and Germany, 149 

came a deep blow as if a school of porpoises were 
playing round the beds. At last, fatigue threw me 
into a sort of stupor, which, however, the first ray of 
morning dispelled, and I gladly left my Procrustean 
bed. 

" We resumed our mountain-ascent. I found the 
copious supply of fleas and such small deer which had 
made park-ground of my limbs all night had materi- 
ally reduced my strength ; but the guide, with the 
simple recipe of wine poured over a slice of bread, 
made us fresh as ever." 

They reached Courmayeur about three, where they 
passed the night at an hotel " frequented by the first 
families of Turin," and started the next day on a de- 
scent, reaching Aosta before noon, and St. Remy be- 
fore night. On the way, they heard that the report 
of the robbers being taken was a mistake. 

''^ July 2gth. — This morning, leaving St. Remy at 
half-past five, we began the ascent of St. Bernard. A 
Prussian count, with peculiarly straw-like mustaches, 
joined us. After about two hours the huge figure of 
the convent shimmered through the fog. It resem- 
bles exactly a cotton-mill, and the pond beside it pre- 
serves the resemblance. . . . The holy fathers were 
much scandalized by the cool robbery within an hour 
of their convent. They said they lent money to the 



150 Tho7nas G. Apple ton, 

victim, and had taken all means, but vainly, to catch 
the three rogues. 

" In leaving, as we were to pass the very spot 
where it occurred, all thought it advisable to keep 
together ; and doubtless it was our warlike front, and 
the curled mustache of the count, that lost for my 
journal a nice adventure. 

" We saw the plain where Bonaparte gave his 
troops a grand dinner, and also the spot where his 
guide saved him from falling over the precipice. 
When fairly down the mountain, I could not but 
confess that the difficulty of Napoleon's passage was 
much exaggerated. Our companion, a Genevese, was 
in the army that crossed. He says that it was in 
May, with much snow, and avalanches sweeping off 
men and horses. With all that, to my notion, it is a 
feat that our Yankees would perform, and never think 
they had * set the river on fire.' 

** At Liddes we took a char^ having a long pull to 
Martigny. A char-a-banc has seats sidewise, like a 
woman's on horseback, between the wheels, with the 
advantage that one looks away from the precipice 
over which he hangs. We rattled down stony hills, 
perpendiculars all about us, and only by the grace of 
God were we saved, for, just on entering a village, the 
front portion of our char gave way, and the rest ran 
off to one side, and, coming smack against a house. 



Switzerla^td and Germany. 151 

overset. If it had been five minutes back, we should 
have all been Sam Patches. By dark, at last, we 
reached Martigny." 

Thus, sometimes walking, sometimes by diligence 
or char-a-banc^ Mr. Appleton visited Interlachen, Ve- 
vay, Berne, Lucerne, Zurich, Schaffhausen, with a lit- 
tle tour including FlUelen, the falls of the Handeck, 
Grindelwald, etc. During most of this time he was 
alone, his traveling associates having left him to 
vary their tour. At times he joined chance com- 
panions. He was always observant of costume and 
national peculiarities of speech and character, and 
especially of the beauty of nature everywhere : always 
sensitive to the influences upon his moods of weather, 
sunny or rainy, and of solitude and society. 

"My friends left me," he says, "to go to Milan. 
It was indeed with painful feelings that I parted with 
them. After we have for a month traveled pleasantly 
together, I am disturbed to lose them, and to be- 
come indeed alone amid a world of strangers. It is 
in such moments that the magical word * home ' has 
to the ear its full charm, and brings before the pin- 
ing eye all the warm hearth-loves that have been the 
growth of a lifetime, with all the thousand little com- 
forts we have lost — the cushioned arm-chair, the fa- 
miliar sofa, the loved pictures, and, beyond all, the 



152 Thomas G, Appleton. 

* bright familiar faces,* the undeceitful smile, and ear- 
nest kiss. 

" ScHAFFHAUSEN, August 22d. — I Walked early to 
visit the falls. They form a charming picture. The 
whole body of the pure green Rhine, which even here 
is a wide, brimming, and noble river, shoots itself with 
roaring over a mass of shingly rocks, which in three 
or four little wooded islands stand up amid the fall. 
On one side is a turreted old chateau, and on the 
other an old mill. I had returned to the hotel, when 
the well-known bonnet rouge shone through the dust 
of an approaching diligence, and in a moment Russell's 
hand was in mine. I was tired of trusting to casual 
acquaintances, and right glad to meet him. The next 
morning we started in the post-wagon for Baden." 

Here they stayed some days, amusing themselves 
at the gaming-tables, a little on their own account, 
but more in watching the conduct of the typical 
gambler. 

" I saw all those strange exhibitions of our na- 
ture that mature at the gaming-table — men and wom- 
en, old and young, all following their own schemes 
of money-winning, till, as was often the case, stunned 
and irritated by ill-luck, they would dash from the 
only spot able to excite. One old fellow, with a 
stoop and a sepulchral cough, was the model of a 



Switzerland a7id Germany, 153 

gambler. He never smiled or missed a point. His 
cold, quick eye detected the moment of decision, 
and his heap of silver each time almost invariably- 
doubled. The landlord told me strangers of all 
nations had come here in a chariot-and-four and 
gone off in a voiturin" They met there a number 
of friends. " We were thus a tremendous body of 
Americans, in all nine, and we created quite a sensa- 
tion going in a body up and down the salons de con- 
versation et de jeic^ Their next point was Heidelberg, 
which they thoroughly examined and enjoyed. 

" Our guide was a sergeant-major by profession, 
rum-marked but merry. He professed to have fought 
on all sides in Europe, and to have been with the 
British in America at the burning of Washington, and 
in a skirmish on one of the lakes. He told us very 
coolly that the President of the United States was 
here last year, and that his name was in the book ; but 
we saw it not. The pseudo-President was liberal of 
kreuzers, and told our friend the guide that he hoped, 
the next time he visited Washington, it would not be 
in a red coat, and sword in hand ! The castle of 
Heidelberg is the finest in Germany, and the noblest 
ruin I have seen." * 

They went from Heidelberg, through Darmstadt, 
to Frankfort, where they arrived one evening. 



154 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

" It was after dark when we reached the diligence- 
office. Six or seven vagrants seized our luggage, and 
each, carrying some trifling article, as we did not know 
German enough to hinder them, trailed after us in a 
mob, while we went to various hotels without getting 
in, all being full on account of the fair beginning to- 
morrow. At last we found a room in the troisieme at 
a second-rate hotel. The next day we luckily suc- 
ceeded in getting a good room on the rez de chauss^e^ 
at the * Roman Emperor,' where we found the Edgar 
party. 

" September \st. — The town of Frankfort is a free 
town, owning some land beyond the walls. Its streets 
are wide and cleanly, and its buildings often look 
noble. We dined well at the table d'hdte^ and ordered 
sanglier for to-morrow. We were told at Darmstadt 
that we might see any evening, at a certain place, the 
keepers of the forest feeding the wild-boars in great 
numbers. If so, they can not be very wild. 

"At last I have letters — delicious and welcome 
they were, and put me in spirits, in spite of the rain. 

" In the evening we went to the opera, as we heard 
there was to be something fine — a new one, * L'Olym- 
pien.' But I was disappointed. The house was ill- 
lighted, and the opera stiflly classical. The only idea 
I received from two acts was a suspicion that one of 
the personages was Alexander the Great ! 



Switzerland and Germany. 155 

^^ September 2d. — This morning I was awakened early 
by the falling off of the confounded down-quilt, which 
is the sole warmth to the bed, universal throughout all 
this country. It is in no way fastened down, and is al- 
ways slipping off at a kick. With the valet, we visited 
the small beginnings of the fair — a long avenue of shops, 
many of them for the sale of pipes, handsomely painted, 
or of clear * /cuj?ie de mer.* We visited the Museum, 
which contains an extensive collection of pictures, 
neatly and well arranged. The Dutch and Flemish 
schools are better represented than at the Louvre. 
After so long an absence from art, I found these 
pictures gave me the keenest pleasure. 

*'^ September ^d. — This morning, after dishes of 
chocolate, we were off for Wiesbaden, in a caleche — 
four of us. It was shamefully cold, and, tired of the 
dreary view, we fast-ened down the sides of the car- 
riage, flung ourselves back on the seats, and dozed the 
route through. We noticed only three interesting facts 
on the trip : First, that all the horses were blind in the 
neighborhood ; second, that the pigs have very long, 
and, third, the dogs very curt legs. It rained dismally, 
and we found things little better in our cold, forlorn 
rooms at the hotel at Wiesbaden. The only way I had 
of getting warm was to take a bath, as the clumsy Kam- 
mer-Mddchen had no success in lighting the stove. The 
bath was mineral ; the water, full of salt and iron, 



156 Tho7nas G, Apple Ion, 

tasted like a sloppy bouillie. When I returned up- 
stairs after the bath, the fire was started, and the 
smoke with it. 

" All the lamp-posts in Wiesbaden have a wooden 
snake, that, curling round them, lifts its head in air, 
and suspends from its mouth the lamp. It is pretty. 
We had remarked this mode also at Darmstadt. 

" Wiesbaden seems to be a pretty town, but the 
rain spoils everything. In the evening I stayed at 
home, and amused myself with Scott's * Napoleon.' 

" September ^th. — ^We started at three for Mayence, 
in an excellent caliche^ and arrived, after crossing the 
Rhine upon the bridge of boats. We are at a capital 
hotel, d'Angleterre, with excellent rooms." 

Mr. Appleton at this time little suspected that he 
was destined, before many years, to make a more in- 
timate acquaintance with this part of Germany. 

" To our surprise, we saw many of the stiff Prussian 
and Austrian troops in the streets ; since Napoleon's 
downfall, these two powers, with Russia, have held the 
citadel, as allies. 

" O that Napoleon were again alive, to drive this 
white-legged vermin to its native regions ! The Aus- 
trians are all in white, with black gaiters. It must be 
confessed they are stout-looking fellows. 

^^ September ^th. — This morning, by the early hour 



Switzerland and Germany. 157 

of five, we were upon our feet, and, half an hour later, 
on board the Europa, to enjoy the descent of the 
Rhine. The morning was not favorable, but, as day- 
advanced, it grew warmer and the sky bluer. At first 
we thought the scenery inferior to our expectation ; 
but, in a few moments, doubt was hushed in delight. 
The color of the Rhine here is not other than a turbid 
yellow, whirled in eddies, and sliding at a pace that 
makes the boat but one day descending, though two 
coming up. The scenery, as we found, in a short while 
burst upon us in all its famed beauty. It is unique, 
and should be compared with no other, as its castles, 
which are unrivaled, form the chief glory of the scene. 
They crown every crag, and the dashing boat gives 
them to the eye like the quick changes of a panorama. 
Crags and chateaux shoot up at every turn, as fantas- 
tic as ever falling cinders take shape of moat and cas- 
tle, turret and drawbridge, before the dreaming eye. 
Ranks of vine, step over step, make green every patch 
that is not rock. But for the castles the scene would 
not be so fine ; but they are all poetry and robber- 
wildness — all different, but all possessing a Salvator 
fierceness. We passed numberless towns and storied 
towers. 

" All the fine portion of the river is between May- 
ence and Coblentz, with one solitary exception. Below 

Bingen we passed the Mouse-Tower, where the rats 
14 



158 Thomas G. Applet on. 

devoured the miserly bishop. At Coblentz we had, 
on the right, the fine fortifications of Ehrenbreitstein. 
They are not equal to Quebec, but very fine and 
enormous in extension." 

There they left the exciting features of Rhine- 
scenery. At Cologne the party separated ; Mr. Apple- 
ton, with Mr. Russell, passed, by post or diligence, 
through Prussia to Hamburg. There was some talk of 
going on to St. Petersburg; but the season was too late, 
and everything adverse : it was necessary, it appeared, 
that their names and intention of traveling in Russia 
should be published for three weeks before they could 
depart. 

July and September were passed in Germany, 
chiefly in the large cities. Mr. Appletoh does full 
justice to the Museum at Berlin, and the wonderful 
Gallery at Dresden. At Leipsic he inspected the 
famous battle-plain. The first Napoleon was an ob- 
ject of intense interest always to Mr. Appleton, and, 
throughout his life, he failed not to read every book 
written about him, and missed no opportunity of sift- 
ing and analyzing his character and course. 

But Germany was not congenial. The language did 
not flow readily upon his tongue, so fluent in French 
and Italian. The " frog-like " French of the Germans 
suited him no better, and he never got used to the 



Switzerland and Germany. 159 

German bed. The journal speaks well of the people, 
condones the food, and praises the galleries ; but it is 
but half-hearted praise, and it is to be noted that, with 
the exception of an enforced stay at Mayence some 
years later, Mr. Appleton never revisited the country. 
It rained all the time he was in Dresden, and weather 
was very apt to influence his impressions. On the 
whole, he was glad to be beyond the boundaries of 
Saxony, in an Eilwagen, on the way to Prague, on the 
27th of September. "Before long," he writes, "we 
had entered Austria. Everywhere the double -eagle 
was perched, and all the turnpike - posts were now 
striped black and yellow." 

He had fallen in with a chance friend, in whose 
companionship he traveled for some time ; he is at 
first always spoken of as " the merchant," or " my fat 
friend." He turned out to be the Swedish consul for 
Brazil. 

The " shocking German bed " pursued him to 
Vienna, where he, at length, rejoices in " Christian 
sheets and a downy pillow." 

He stayed nearly three weeks in Vienna, visiting 
all the monuments. He made the chance acquaint- 
ance of an agreeable Polish count and his fascinating 
countess, whom he frequently encountered at places 
of amusement. At Vienna he was much impressed 
with the mustache, a modern innovation there uni- 



i6o Thomas G, Appleton, 

versally worn. He says : " They are full half and 
half with smooth cheeks, and their variety is a philo- 
sophical study. They may be reduced to four classes 
— amatory, savage, sentimental, and unfortunate — ac- 
cording to the twist given them by their wearers." 

On his first arrival in Germany, Mr. Appleton was 
disgusted with the frequency of the pipe and its ac- 
companying habit ; but, before leaving Austria, he 
had set up a pipe of his own, in deference to the cus- 
tom of the country. However, pipes were never much 
in favor with him, although he dearly loved a good 
cigar. 

His Brazilian departed, Mr. Appleton found him- 
self solitary in Vienna, and decided to make his way 
without further delay toward Florence, where it was 
his intention to repose for a while. At Munich he 
found, to his great satisfaction, his friend Percival. 
They met there a Scotchman named Campbell, " stout, 
and about forty-five," who asked to join their party. 
" I am to do all the talking," writes Mr. Appleton, 
" and bargaining, as he is just from India, and speaks 
not a word of French." 

Thus the three companions, on the ist of Novem- 
ber, found themselves driving through the Tyrol, and 
soon, to their delight, leaving the crabbed German 
tongue and slippery beds, for the softness of Italian 
speech and slumber. 



Switzerland and Germany, i6i 

Two weeks in Venice, a memorable day in Milan, 
looking at the " Last Supper " of Leonardo da Vinci, 
and rapid posting, brought the travelers to Florence, 
where, with feelings of profound relief, Mr. Appleton 
laid aside for a while the habits of the tourist. 

^^ December ^th. — At last I am settled at No. 1159 
Borgo di Santi Apostoli, with two little rooms in a 
central situation. I pay seven dollars a month, with 
ten cents for breakfast and thirty cents for dinner. I 
have wandered for a few moments in the Pitti Palace, 
but glanced only at the glorious affairs on the walls, 
to stand most of my time before the heavenly * Seg- 
giola,' with its earthly mother and divine boy. What 
unutterable sweetness and soul in the expression of 
the Madonna ! It enters the heart, with the certainty 
of living there, while a thousand other emotions may 
vainly agitate it. The eye and the mouth Raphael 
stole from heaven. 

** Mr. Percival found rooms in the same house ; 
poor Colonel Campbell we have left aground, and, 
like a whale deserted by his pilot-fish, he rolls his 
huge sides in vacillating uncertainty. He will be 
landed ere long in an English pension^ if he does not, 
as I prophesy, drift with the stream that moves Rome- 
ward. 

" Eh bene ! Is it not odd ? Here I am scribbling 



1 62 Thomas G, Appleton, 

in precisely the position I have always looked at as 
il Paradiso, the horizon-star of my hopes, to paint at 
Florence ! And I am happy. I shall copy at the 
gallery, and make sketches from my travels — strike 
before the iron is wholly cold. 

" Barnard is here, but only for a few days. Like 
old men, we sit and talk over our young enthusiasm 
in England, now dead and buried under the broad 
tide of events and emotions ; yea, even in Florence, 
we look to the end of our career with pleasure, and, 
overleaping Rome, draw hopes of happiness from 
home, sweet home ! 

" We went, with Barnard, in the evening to the 
theatre. We could not get into the pit, so took a 
whole loge^ for which the janitor asked fourteen pauls, 
and accepted eight. Such is this universal spirit of 
roguery, that one by instinct abates the half. I ques- 
tion not that, so strong is custom, a Florentine would 
dispute the toll of the angel that admitted him to 
paradise. 

"... Raphael is, on many accounts, the most 
wonderful artist of any day. He lived only thirty-six 
years, and yet his pictures mark a growth and ma- 
turity of genius that any one would suppose those of 
a long life. He, too, united all excellences and all ex- 
tremes. With a genius that gave birth to the heaven- 
liest, most ideal beauty man has conceived — his in- 



Swit2erla7td and Germany, 163 

fants and his Madonnas — yet, in minuteness and 
truth, he equaled Teniers or Mieris. His portraits 
are the finest in existence. Then, too, how much con- 
trast ! From his portrait of his mother to Leo X ! 
The first has more dryness even than Perugino, and 
the last matches Titian. His last works, indeed, are 
faultless. What might he not have done if his life 
had had the limits of the Evangelist's ? " 

Mr. Appleton was resolved to copy in the galleries 
of Florence, but it was a work of time, not only to 
decide upon a fit subject, but to obtain the necessary 
permission, and to fairly establish himself. Mean- 
while he was sketching and taking Italian lessons, and 
his time was fully occupied in sight-seeing and obser- 
vation. 

" My opinion is made up as to the weather. The 
Florentines themselves allow winter to be bad enough, 
between the traniontino from the hills and the sirocco 
from the west. When it is fair here, the sky is quite 
blue ; the air is bracing and chill, and one requires a 
cloak. It is to me very agreeable — like our fine Octo- 
ber weather. 

" My street, or rather lane, as we should call it, is 
so narrow, and the eaves lap over so much, I doubt if 
a sun-ray ever reached the pavement ; it is wet, damp, 
and dirty. I have no light till eight in the morning,^ 



164 Thomas G, Appletom 

and it goes by half-past four. I have foolishly left oil 
and wood to be furnished by my hostess. However, 
she says that Americans are fini^ con testi discreii. 

** We burn wood — no coal is to be had ; and our 
lamp is of a very antique and classical figure, with two 
flames and a chain suspended. Once a week Madame 
Fiocchi places a fresh pot of flowers upon my mantel, 
which retain their bloom by aid of water during the 
interval. Our furniture presents the usual Italian in- 
congruities. Beside a bureau, without locks, stand 
chairs once fit for a palace, imposing in their tarnished 
gilding and torn satin. There is not much neatness in 
our room, but of course one comes down to the Italian 
standard. My ceiling is a sky, in which birds are 
sporting. It retains its blue with vastly more con- 
stancy than the fickle Tuscan heaven out-doors. On 
the whole, I am already at home, and like my sur- 
roundings. I think I could live a year thus, and find 
active occupation all the while. As yet the days are 
too short by half, and I hardly once a day find time 
to smoke my dear pipe, the admiration of the ladies." 

Here the manuscript-book of the journal was sent 
to the hands of the book-binder, and thence was for- 
warded to America, with a warm greeting to the loved 
ones at home. The volume is dedicated, affection- 
ately — 



Switzerland and Germany. 165 

" To the eyes of the family circle ; to them, and to 
them only." 

It is only with the full permission of the remaining 
members of that group, and with the license given by 
the lapse of so many years, that these extracts from 
its pages are given to the wider circle of friends. 



CHAPTER X. 



FLORENCE. 
1833-1^34- 

" One bulky volume," writes Mr. Appleton, " in the 
hands of the book-binder, and now I am to fill an- 
other. A merry heart blots much paper ; and so, with 
a prayer to our patron, the god Saint Mercury, I ap- 
ply myself to the task, made pleasant by the hope that 
some future hour may owe its amusement to the piece- 
meal scrawlings of the present." 

He was now pleasantly established for a couple of 
months in Florence, with his friend Mr. Percival, in 
an Italian family, of which the two daughters amused 
the young men by their easy talk and kind attentions. 
The society of several Americans, old friends, pre- 
vented Mr. Appleton from feeling lonely ; and the 
relief from the hurry of travel, and the comfort of set- 
tling down to a methodical life, proved most agree- 
able. 

He applied immediately for permission to copy in 



Florence. 167 

the galleries, and was impatient of the long delay which 
attended the application. " I patiently (impatiently !) 
wait my day," he says. " Titian's mistress will soon 
be mine. As for the Pitti, only seven are admitted at 
a time ; and an artist who is to copy some Salvators 
for Mr. Perkins has been waiting eight months. Pretty 
patrons of the arts ! No art but that of procrastina- 
tion." Meantime, always observant, he filled up his 
time inspecting all the treasures and curiosities of 
Florence. 

^^ December 20th. — There are always in the Ducal 
Square two rivals, Punchinello and a charlatan. The 
latter puffs his drugs and elixirs from his old sulky with 
infinite variety of gesture and eloquence, and apparent- 
ly does a good business with the soft ones of the town ; 
but Punch draws the larger crowd and the loudest 
laughs. I notice that he differs somewhat from his 
relative in England, though retaining his usual charac- 
ter for gallantry and quarreling. He appears here in 
a black mask, and with a nose much more moderate 
than his English namesake, who, in vivacity and varie- 
ty of adventures, certainly does not equal the hero of 
Italy. Bergamo had the honor of originating this 
Lothario, immortal and ubiquitous. 

** My banker gave me a billet to procure me per- 
mission to copy the Seggiola at the Pitti. I have 



1 68 Thomas G. Appleton, 

little hopes. On application, I was requested, with 
much solemnity, to wait a moment for the high and 
mighty custode. In five minutes a servant came, 
took my cloak, and told me to pass to another apart- 
ment, and wait again. In five minutes more the 
great man bowed himself in, and, after some solemn 
talk, told me that Monday, at twelve, I should know 
when I could gain my object. Gil Bias could hardly 
describe more courtly detentions. 

"Last evening Madamigella Rosalinda was quite 
gay ; she did up our hair in papillotes and laughed 
heartily at the effeminate figure I cut, and the Gorgo- 
nian one of Mr. Percival. 

"The Italians are very fond of bonbons. There 
is an invaluable shop in my neighborhood, where soda 
and mineral water are also sold ; it is always full of 
Italians filling their pockets. 

" I am crawling through Sismondi's * Italian Re- 
publics.* What poor stuff these Italians were, from the 
first ! The soul sickens at the unvaried variety of the 
causes — quarrels and massacres of Bianchi and Neri 
— Guelph and Ghibeline. How many bloody rains 
have reddened the bases of these old churches ! How 
many times has the affrighted Arno blushed an alien 
hue ! As I walk under the Duomo, I fancy it living 
and musing upon the inconstant tide of humanity 
that has swept along beneath it, ever vain, ever busy, 



Florence, 1 69 

* hasting to do evil,' with the passions, objects, of in- 
sects. 

^^ December 25///. — Christmas-day is one that should 
be spent at home. I was fortunate to have friends 
enough about me to give our dinner a Boston appear- 
ance, whose wit and geniality made a holiday indeed 
of the flying hours. The day is kept by the Italians 
pretty much as we keep it. The shops are shut, the 
citizens lounge and drive along the Lungo Arno, and 
retire early to their turkeys and mince-pies. Yester- 
day was kept as a sort of fast. No one ate anything. 
Mdlle. Taquina quoted the proverb — 

' Chi non jejeuna la vigilia di natale, 
Corpo di lupo ed anima di cane.' 

" December 28///. — What miserably short days ! I 
can not do the half I propose, and have many affairs 
of three days' neglect on my hands. I have bought a 
full collection of prints from Bardi, and have con- 
signed them to friend McCracken's portfolio, to be 
sent to New York, there to await my coming. 

"Yesterday, a Turk in full costume visited me. 

What was my astonishment to hear him inform me, in 

pure English, that he was a professor in my own Alma 

Mater f He only meant, however, that at Cambridge 

he had taught the Oriental languages to any one who 

wished to learn. He knew all the professors ; he was 
15 



170 Tho7nas G. Appleton, 

there in the time of Madison, whom he said he knew. 
He did not relish the high society he went into, it cost 
him so much in shirts and coats ; and at the dinners 
he felt so uneasy he could not eat, and was obliged to 
entreat a second dinner for eating. On the strength 
of American associations, I bought of him a pound of 
Turkish tobacco, not quite so good as that I obtained 
at Vienna. 

"To-night, as Signor Rosea (the Italian teacher) 
was taking his leave, he saw a lady sitting in the chair 
at the top of the stairs. With his usual courtesy, he 
bowed and wished her the felicitations of the season. 
There was no answer, and smothered laughter from 
down the corridor induced him to take her by the 
hand. It was a mere figure that the girls had prepared 
in the carnival spirit, amusing themselves with the mis- 
takes of the passers. Gay folks these in our house, and 
yet they are always saying they are very miserable. 

" Picture-dealers begin to find me out. A man 
came yesterday, and I bought of him a copy of Correg- 
gio's * Madonna of the Tribuna.* It is very excellent, 
and I felicitate myself on the purchase. 

^^ December ^oth. — Spent the morning running about 
making bargains and paying bills. I fell in with the 
famosa stock-maker, and am advised to beware of her 
seductions. She is a Corsican, who, they say, has 
made as many conquests as Bonaparte. 



Florence, j 7 1 

" Went to visit the secretary of the Palazzo Pitti, 
to hear what chance I have of copying. To my joy 
and surprise he told me, with a smile, that I shall have 
La Seggiola for all the next month ! I give up, there- 
fore, my other applications ; a careful copy of this 
touching Virgin will repay me for my lost time, and 
feed my future days with pleasant reminiscences. 

" While w:alking through the rooms, I met Mr. and 

Mrs. . They were all Boston ; and their northern 

salutation reminded me of the cold manners, half-for- 
gotten, of my countrymen. 

^^ Jantcary 3, 1834. — The third day I have been at 
my easel in the Pitti. I am much amused at the par- 
ties of English who, from behind me, express their 
various opinions upon the picture and my copy ; not 
suspecting my English, they express their criticisms 
freely. I have been twice asked if the Madonna were 
original. From my platform I see a galaxy of genius. 
The * Leo,' the * Judith of Allori,' Rubens's portraits of 
himself, his brother, and Hugo Grotius, his master- 
piece in this way ; two Sartos, most delicious, and 
others, all admirable. If, while gazing upon these fine 
works with something of sympathetic love for the art, 
I in my vanity exclaim, * Ed io anche son pittore ! * I 
must be pardoned the presumption for my passionate 
admiration of these high names in whose presence I 
find myself. I paint better for the influence of their 



172 Thomas G, Applet on. 

presence, and, far from being overawed, feel only 
warm ambition to produce a copy which may gain 
some admiration for the original Seggiola. . . . 

" Last night, at the Cocomero, I saw *" Maria 
Stuart,' newly translated from Schiller. I could not 
pardon the want of beauty in the fair Mary, though 
she acted well. The costume was not ill generally, 
and great sympathy was manifested for the unfortunate 
Catholic, wearing a conspicuous golden rosary at her 
girdle. The queens are made to meet, and they scold 
like fish-women. Mary taunts Elizabeth so keenly 
that she is hurried off in a speechless paroxysm of 
rage. Unfortunately, this Elizabeth was much the 
prettier. 

^^ January ^th. — ^We went to a little theatre, the 
Bourgonisante, taking Constantino to explain. These 
small theatres amuse me better than the larger ; one 
finds more jollity and fun in the house, often more spirit 
and merit in the actors, and the drolleries of the super- 
numeraries, and the natve remarks of the audience are 
very diverting. There are eight theatres here, and 
some where the tickets are eight cents ! In the farce 
we saw a personage, new to me, but a favorite with the 
Florentines, who has ousted, it seems, from the public 
favor his rival, Arlichino, viz., Steniirello. This indi- 
vidual is a servant, dressed comically and painted with 
huge eyebrows, and wearing a party-colored coat. He 



Florence, i ']2) 

always misunderstands all remarks, and with his buf- 
foonery, wit, blunders, and improvised songs, keeps the 
house in a convulsion of merriment. 

^^ January "jih. — All day at the Pitti. Finished the 
head of the Virgin. 

^^ January loth. — Mild and rainy. In fact, this is 
by all said to be a very mild winter. I have only seen 
ice once, while last year there was a month of skating 
on the Arno. All day, as usual, at the Pitti. 

" Last night went again to Fenzi's soiree. L.a, 
Guicciola was expected, but, to my disappointment, 
she came not. I have seen her on the Lungo Arno, 
but not distinctly. She is not, however, so pretty as 
she ought to be for Byron's good taste in selection. 

"January \a,th. — Yesterday I received a solemn 
note from Ambrosi, saying that I must be at the Pitti 
Palace in the evening, in froc de ville, at half-past 
eight precisely, to be presented to the grand cham- 
berlain and then to the duke. After long and un- 
successful efforts to make use of the white cravat 
Linda has bought for me, I succeeded in dressing to 
my mind. 

" We entered the Pitti grounds at the side-gate, and 
drove through the Boboli to the private entrance of 
the duke. The approach was magnificent ; at every 
few yards were candelabras blazing on either side. 
These almost illuminated the gardens and the cy- 



174 Thomas G. Appleton, 

presses, and the statues, in mysterious number and 
obscurity, gave a finish to the elegance of the effect. 
Soldiers were stationed in many places ; as we 
stopped, a servant showed us into the palace. We 
wandered through many long galleries filled with ex- 
otics, doubting where to find the presentation-room. 
At last we came upon a large body of servants in 
the livery of the duke — ^buff and crimson. The first 
room was not large and few persons were in it. We 
passed soon, however, to a large and magnificent 
salon, where we found some other gentlemen waiting 
to be presented. The French took one side of the 
room, and we the other ; the English were on the 
right, and the Russians on the left. We formed thus 
an amusing congress of nations, solemnly staring and 
quizzing at each other. We Americans were almost 
as numerous as any — not far from a dozen, I think, 
with many ladies. Our three officers were in uni- 
form. We were kept waiting a long while ; finally the 
entrance of the duke was announced by every one 
rising. He was simply dressed in a greenish coat, 
with three orders. The duchess came with him, pale, 
but richly jeweled. He glided through the crowds, 
without ostentation, the chamberlain introducing him 
to each person. They began with the Russians ; the 
English followed, and we, having no minister, were 
miserably left. The introduction was done in an easy 



Florence. 1 75 

manner, with but slight remarks. At last he came 
to us. * Voici les Americains,* said the chamberlain. 
We gave our names. The duke paid us some national 
compliments, and said to one of the officers, in Eng- 
lish, * The Americans do not fear the waves in the 
middle of the sea.* All this occupied about an hour 
and a half, when the presentation was over, and con- 
versation and dancing began. The duchess took her 
seat in the center of one side, with the princesses 
about her, and her maids of honor behind. The 
duke opened the dance with Lady Seymour, the Eng- 
lish ambassadress. The duke danced as though he 
loved it, but with the gaucherie of a backwoodsman. 
There was great variety of dress. Some old Russian 
ladies were almost in the Queen Anne court costume. 
Feathers were in quantities, and the blaze of dia- 
monds, and moonshine of pearls, redoubled the splen- 
dor of the wax-candles which were in trees or pyra- 
mids to the ceiling. The different ministers of the 
Italian states wore orders, ribbons, and other distinc- 
tions. The Pope's legate was in a sort of cloak, with 
brown stockings ; he wore a little black skull-cap 
jauntily on one side of his head, and the expression 
of a volpo soprafino. There were any number of 
splendid rooms en suite. Many had card-tables, and 
some persons were pretending to play chess amid all 
the uproar. 



176 Thomas G, Appleton. 

" The supper was laid out on two buffets, in a 
room next the salon de danse. It was most recherchi. 
Statues and a variety of little alabaster figures were 
interspersed amid patisseries and cakes, and two whole 
sturgeons were not among the least conspicuous of 
the dainties. A pyramid of champagne looked like 
the cone of happiness. 

" We left before supper was announced ; and I 
drove home to dream of jeweled duchesses and pretty 
English girls, at times nightmared by some monster of 
a sturgeon squatting with finny tail upon my melan- 
choly bosom. . . . 

"Rusca told me to-night a curious story of a 
snare laid for him by an antiquarian friend of his. 
This friend, it appears, was a profound rogue. He 
lived in Leghorn, and Rusca used him to hunt up 
antiquities for him. One day he told him he had 
stumbled upon some famous bronzes, outside the 
Leghorn gates, at the house of a fair lady. They 
agreed to go at the twenty-fourth hour (by the Ro- 
man calculation — i. e., sunset). Though rather sur- 
prised at its lateness, Rusca did not object, and forth 
they fared. When they arrived at the house, the 
man kept outside, and on entering Rusca found a 
most beautiful and agreeable woman, in whose soci- 
ety he soon became absorbed, forgetting his antiques 
in the charms of this modern specimen. The lady 



Florence. 177 

left him alone for a moment, when, hearing low and 
mysterious voices in the next room, the idea of a be- 
trayal came suddenly upon Rusca, and, coupling with 
the circumstances suspicious things he had heard of 
his acquaintance, he gave himself up for lost. In 
this unpleasant state of things, knocks were heard 
at the door. The lady returned, and some female 
friends entered, which fortunately gave Rusca an op- 
portunity to make off, though the lady was much 
displeased, and urged him to stay and examine the 
bronzes. He pleaded an engagement, seized his hat, 
and, without waiting for his ' friend,* made but half 
an hour's walk to Leghorn. 

" He afterward learned that it was undoubted- 
ly planned to murder him for the money he had 
brought with which to pay for the bronzes. His 
* friend' was afterward exposed; and he saw the 
lesina^ an awl with which this man used to kill 
men, by a sharp blow at the back of the neck. The 
victim hardly felt it at the time, it was so delicate, 
but bled to death when at a distance. 

^''January \Zth. — To-day is Saint Antonio's day. 
He is the patron of animals : my hackman came run- 
ning to me with a splendid bouquet, which he pre- 
sented in the name of the saint. It is a sort of April- 
fool's-day with the people. They say to some one, 
''Prestatetni un paulo 'y and when they have it, they say. 



178 Thomas G. Applet on, 

^jRtngf'aziate Dio e San Antonio ! ' and run off, the poor 
lender having no right to ask again for his money. 

^^ January 22d. — Went to-night to the duke's ball 
again. It was in the same rooms, with the same style, 
and almost the same persons I knew there. The 
supper was as distinguished. Mr. Curtis and I were 
determined to try it this time ; and when the eating 
began we slid up to the sturgeon and demanded a 
slice. This fish is delicious, and deemed princely 
here. Having heard the duke's pheasants were fine, 
we tried them, and finished with a beaker of kingly 
tokay, such tokay as Vienna could not afford, such as 
monarchs give one another, such as slides down the 
throats of princes. Noble duke ! his supper has 
bribed me to eternal praise. 

* January 2^th. — We dined at Madame Humbert's, 
at the invitation of Colonel Campbell, my quondam 
traveling friend. After dinner I took a walk with the 
gastronomic hero, who was one of the guests, an 
Englishman. His father paid sixty thousand pounds 
of gambling debts for him and disinherited him. He 
is as rosy as the morning, and professes to worship no 
other god than his appetite. He moves about Italy in 
the direction of good hotels. He has never entered 
the Pitti, and stays here only for his good table ; but 
soon goes to Naples, cutting Rome. 

''January 25//^. — Desirous of making some return 



Floreiice. 1 79 

for the civilities of our friends, Percival and I gave 
out invitations to a dinner for to-day, at March^'s. 
March6 did his duty, and served us a most exquisite 
dinner. We were all in spirits, and laughed and talked 
till near eleven. 

" I found Professor Pacciani in the parlor at home. 
We began a conversation ; the professor was very 
polite, and ended by offering me most excellent letters 
to Rome, Gibraltar, and other places. He is a queer 
person. Distinguished for his literary attainments, 
one moment he is pulled by nobles, and the next 
carousing with vagrants. He dresses at the north and 
south of decency ; now in brocade, and now in rags. 
A philosopher, he turns a deaf ear to the solicitations 
of his high-born patrons. He avoids the court, and 
prefers to sip his vino comune with his own valet, to 
kissing cups of tokay with the duke. 

"We are drawing near to a close of our sojourn 
here. My visit to Florence has been delightful, and I 
am indeed sorry to break this studious quiet, and re- 
commence gyrations. Mr. Curtis thinks he shall not 
take his own carriage to Rome, but is desirous that 
we should all go together in some large conveyance. 
This is charming. His servant, Gretano, is now on 
the lookout for some such * carry-all.' 

^^ January 26th. — The Carnival at its close gets a 
sort of sickish vivacity. Rusca says he can recollect 



i8o Thomas G, Appleion, 

when it brought every one into the streets in masks ; 
now for ten years it has inexplicably languished. 

** The Corso winds, in a long file of carriages, from 
Santa Croce to the Annunciata. All the windows, 
roofs, and streets are crammed with spectators, with 
a plentiful sprinkling of masks. Crowds of wigged 
doctors, Rinaldos in beaver, cuisses and waving 
feathers, Swiss girls, etc., and more than one redoubt- 
able Arlecchino in spotted clothes, jostled along with 
much less vivacity and life than I should have ex- 
pected from an Italian masking. At Santa Croce, the 
bright-colored crowd on the steps was a brilliant sight, 
like a frozen rainbow — many pretty faces shining amid 
the gay shawls. There were several fine-looking peas- 
ants from the environs, inheriting more of the old 
Italian features than the town people, the pure type, 
as Pacciani says, of the language, preserved in great- 
est purity away from the cities, where it is corrupted. 

"The duke was present, with ten dragoons be- 
hind him ; many of the nobility with liveried ser- 
vants, and I noticed one shining negro, magnificently 
turbaned and shawled, with a crooked sword by his 
side. 

^^ January 27//^. — Finished to-day my picture, and 
fairly to my satisfaction, with extravagant compliments 
from others. In catching the expressions, and the old, 
rich tone of the original, I have not been wholly un- 



Florence, 1 8 1 

successful, and these are the points in which most of 
the copies I have seen fail.* 

^''January 2Zth. — To-day is charming. I have al- 
ways had a childish impatience to see the statue of the 
Apennines, as I have looked at it when a child in my 
* Wonders of the World.' So to-day Percival and I 
took a caliche and drove to Pratolino, six miles to the 
north. The landscape was lovely, with many Doughty- 
like effects upon the sun-smitten hills. 

" We found the garden in the English style, like a 
beautiful forest, and wandered through its Cretan in- 
tricacies till, at last, we came to the sheet of water 
where Pater Apenninus 'se toUit ad auras.' This 
statue is by John of Bologna, and curiously construct- 
ed of masses of rock and brick plastered over. It did 
not seem sixty feet high, as asserted, but Mr. Percival, 
sitting on one of the feet, was scarcely bigger than one 
toe of it. There is much poetry in the idea ; the 
genius looks so reverend with time and hoary with 
sleet and snow, his stony beard sweeping to the 
ground, and his matted locks overhanging his ancient 
visage. Water trickles from the mound on which he 
rests. His face is painted to imitate life ; the rest 
looks as gray and grim as it ought. We ascended be- 

* The copy of the Seggiola made by Mr. Appletonis now in 
the possession of his brother, Mr. Nathan Appleton. It hangs at 
present in the gallery of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. 
i6 



1 82 Thomas G. Appleton, 

hind, amid the braces which bind the statue, into the 
head, and, looking out of the eyes, enjoyed a fine view 
of Fiesole and the valley. 

^''January 2gth. — A thousand things to do — bills to 
pay, neglected sights to kill off, cards to leave, and 
clothes to pack. I went with Madame Curtis to see 
my Seggiola in its frame. We both were pleased with 
Xh^framey and she admired the picture. 

**I visited the gallery, to see the jewel-room I 
have neglected till now. 

" * No more, oh, never more ! * what sadness in the 
words ! I was wretched to think I should never be 
again before these glorious things. Madame de Stael 
says — 

' Voyager est le plus triste de tous les plaisirs * — 

and, though I do not fully accord with her reasons, 
yet the grief of parting, so often to be repeated, makes 
it so indeed. 

" I believe I have never looked with such fondness, 
such intense and melancholy enthusiasm, upon the glo- 
ries of the gallery as to-day. I lingered over the round 
and flesh-like limbs of the Venus, the fearful curiosity 
of the Slave, the sweetness of Correggio, as friends I 
would not leave, but was forced from. As I moved up 
the gallery, the care-worn brow of Caesar, full of pain- 
ful study, occupied my attention. Then came the great 
Pompey ; the beautiful child, Germanicus ; the fat, 



Floreiice, 183 

round face of the baby Nero — no trace of vice yet 
in those infantile features. I stood before the odious 
Messalina ; she has a mouth sunk and dimpled, and 
her head behind is, according to phrenology, licen- 
tious. It was with pleasure, on the other side, to turn 
to the amiable Trajan — one can not look into his face 
without loving him — to the stern Severus, and the 
sharp, Wellington features of Nerva. There is more 
excitement in running over a gallery of Roman busts 
than can be got in any other way. It is history in 
marble. They are full of truth, and one reads the 
satire of Tacitus and the judgment of Gibbon in every 
head. 

"After dinner, a last visit from Pacciani, dressed 
come un orso, and bearing the marks of intelligence 
and dissipation both in his eyes and features. He 
has 'narrowly escaped being a great man,' as the 
Irishman said. He was an intimate friend of Shelley, 
and gave me the full story of Shelley's shipwreck. 

^^ January ^isi, Friday. — This morning, at half-past 
eight, with a brilliant sun to encourage us against 
Friday proverbs, we took leave of Florence. Our 
carriage is light and commodious, and, when heaped 
with all our traveling apparatus, looks indeed like a 
long journey. PortmanteaXix and sacks upon top ; 
Mary's hoop slung on in front, behind Gaetano and 
Pauline. The interior, besides ourselves, is full of 



184 Thomas G, Appleton, 

books, and a canestra of all the little wants gastro- 
nomic of an Italian journey. Our big-footed vetturino 
cracks his whip over the backs of four fat, round 
horses, with their tails tied in trig knots, like one who 
girds himself for serious battle. 

" My parting with my landladies was dolorous. 
Tears were plentiful, and I only gave them consola- 
tion by promising to send remembrances by Percival." 

Finding his friends the Curtises in Florence was 
one of the happy chances always befalling Mr. Apple- 
ton through life. Mr. T. B. Curtis, his lovely wife, 
and little daughter, were old Boston friends ; they 
were upon the packet Philadelphia, whose voyage had 
given to Thomas his first delightful impression of 
ocean travel ; and now he came across them, after 
six months of Europe, unexpectedly. They met with 
great satisfaction in Florence, " told each other," Mrs. 
Curtis wrote in her journal, " all the news we had 
from home in letters, all talking at once ; and the 
next day the same items passed for news again." 



CHAPTER XI. 

SOUTHERN SKIES. 
1834. 

Now began a charming journey through romantic 
scenes full of classical associations. The big carriage, 
besides Mr. and Mrs. Curtis and Miss Mary, held Mr. 
Appleton and his friend Mr. Percival ; so that a con- 
genial and sympathetic party was formed, of which 
the members shared the novelty of the scenes through 
which they were passing — not hackneyed, it must be 
remembered, and made commonplace at that time, by 
countless guide-books and notes of travel. Virgil and 
Byron were their forerunners, furnishing them with quo- 
tations apt, and indicating to them where to dilate with 
the right emotion. They drove up the Val d' Arno at 
its loveliest ; through cultivated country, where old, 
brown, castellated towns peered out from masses of 
pale olive-trees — the soul of Etrurian scenery. The 
fruit was just being gathered by men in the trees, and 
girls with baskets below. They drove through an- 



1 86 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

cient towns — Arezzo, Castiglione, Cortona — delighted 
all day by the charm of the scenery ; amused at night, 
rather than discouraged, by the discomfort of the inns. 
At the Papal frontier they stopped to have trunks 
examined, and the gentlemen walked on to scan the 
view of the Thrasymenian plain. 

" Everything about here," says the journal, " has 
an air profoundly old ; the very ground is hillocked 
and Avorn as by the plows of eternity. Every foot of 
it is kneaded with the dust of a hero ; the trees 
gnarled and crooked, the peasants brown and rusty ; 
the very buildings seem to grow from the soil and be 
of equal antiquity. 

" This battle-field is one of the most interesting in 
history, and it is perfectly comprehensible. I could 
see the low and shaggy hills on which Hannibal had 
his horse and troops hidden; and the narrow, foggy 
plain, sweeping in an amphitheatre to the shores of 
the lake. The ground is gullied by rains, and broken 
into rugged and irregular tumuli, where the affrighted 
Romans were slaughtered without being able to see 
their foes or to form their ranks. It is, indeed, * locus 
insidiis aptus,* and all remains now as then, except that 
a peaceful fertility has sprung from that day's carnage. 
A brown peasant- girl, driving an obstinate flock of 
black pigs over the rough ground, was a sort of cari- 



Southern Skies, 187 

cature of the flight of the luckless Romans. I could 
fancy the shallow current of the streamlet crimson 
with Roman blood, and the shores of the lake heaped 
with Roman shields ; but now, as the Childe sings — 

' Far other scene is Thrasymene — 
Her lake a sheet of sih'er, and her plain 
Rent by no ravage but the gentle plow.' 

" Perugia, February 1st. — I think we shall scarcely 
find any older people than this. The shops bear such 
names as Caesar and Pompey, and the cart of the 
peasant is almost exactly the old Roman car, with low, 
heavy wheels and triangular body. In a chapel are 
two pictures — the first by Raphael, the other by Pietro 
Perugino. The church of San Pietro is perfectly 
covered with pictures ; several admirable ones of 
Pietro. One by his master was curious, as showing 
that he has made as great advances from the stiff and 
colorless mannerism of this old master, as his illus- 
trious pupil, Raphael, from his own. 

"... On descending the hill from Perugia, as we 
crossed a bridge, a boy cried out, ^Eccolo, il Tiverel' 
It was an interesting moment, and I was glad to find 
it was not the pitiful stream I had feared. It was not 
^ flavum Tiberim^' but of a pretty green, and as large 
as the Arno. Some miles farther on we came to the 
banks of the sacred Clitumnus, a brook of sunniest 



1 88 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

waters, and now, as in Virgil's time, with its banks of 
a living green, and white oxen : 

' Hinc albi, Clitumne greges et maxima taurus 
Victima, saepe tuo perfusi flumine sacra.' 

^^ February ^d. — We drove to the falls of Terni, 
from the old town, through a twisted grove of ^ fron- 
defites olivce ' ; walked through orange-groves until we 
came to a most romantic wood of ilexes. The scenery 
about was majestic, with mountains soaring to heaven, 
and piled up in all variety of shade and outline ; the 
green and glancing river rushing below, through rocks 
worn and hollowed. We gathered many flowers, and 
ran over the hills till we reached the grand point where, 
as the guide said, all painters sketch the fall. 

"Beggars are rife on these hills, and have all ways 
of earning their money. One spreads olive-branches 
to make a seat, another sweeps the platform, a third 
presents a bit of petrified earth, and all unite in their 
clamor and tenacity. 

"I sat on the bank and read aloud Byron's de- 
scription to my companions. It is beautifully true, 
only giving rather too savage a tone to this charming 
scenery. I see not how Addison could find anything 
here to warrant him in calling it the passage to the in- 
fernal regions. The height of the chufe^ we were told, 
is as many feet as there are days in the year. The 



Southern Skies. 189 

river suddenly tumbles from the mountain's head into 
a chasm where boils up an unceasing shower of spray 

* That is an eternal April to the ground,' 

giving to the grass a luxuriant emerald tint. It then 
slides over the rocks in two other falls of silver, whose 
grace and lines, constantly vacillating, form a beauti- 
ful contrast to the thunder and lightning of the first. 
On every side the scene is glorious. We climbed to 
the top, not equal to the lower view, but with a rich, 
Claude-like picture of the plain and town. 

" February ^th. — Though the road was very heavy, 
Percival and I walked on, rewarded by a magnificent 
view on descending to the plain, through which in 
graceful windings meanders a lovely river. I asked 
an old peasant-woman what name it bore. * Se chia- 
ma il fiume ' was the only answer I could get from 
her. Soon we met a man, who said it was the Tiber ! 
To think that a peasant-slave should live on the bor- 
ders of this mother of streams, and not know it as 
other than * the river ' ! 

" February ^th. — A date never to be forgotten, for 
last night I slept in Rome ! Walking as usual beyond 
the carriage, Percival and I advanced amid the morn- 
ing fogs, having started thus early to be at Rome be- 
times. It was imprudent getting beyond the carriage 
just here, as there is special danger, for a straggling 



IQO Thomas G. Appleton, 

oak-wood, full of low brush, near, is a famous haunt 
for banditti, and Gasparo regaled us with stories of 
persons variously ill-treated therein. Only last week, 
on the Siena road, a courier, with two Englishmen, 
was stopped. We were more fortunate. We noted 
every mile-stone that brought us nearer the city, and 
fancied that many were the old Roman ones. Our 
excitement was constantly on the increase, and we 
rushed on at last to gain the view which we were 
sure of having from the hill-top. This summit was 
Soracte. My eye caught instantly, far in the blue 
distance, amid the sparkle of its palaces, that illus- 
trious dome which Buonarotti hung in air ; at the 
same moment flashed upon me the long, white line 
of the Mediterranean. I cried out to Percival as he 
came running up — 

' The Niobe of nations, there she stands ! ' 

We chose a flowery seat and gave way to the intensity 
of our feelings. For a long, silent hour we were in- 
dulging in the excitement of the situation, calling up 
all those bright things that make Rome the most inter- 
esting city on earth. It is not sentiment, it is not an 
artfully stimulated ebullition of romance, but awe and 
sublime joy which every student must feel when look- 
ing his first upon the * lone mother of dead empires.* '* 
In this enthusiastic spirit the party entered Rome 



Southern Skies. 191 

at a fortunate moment, near the close of the Carnival, 
just as the Corso di cavalli was beginning ; the whole 
square of the Popolo was crammed with carriages and 
people, every balcony was full. The scene was far 
more gay than the languid merry-making of the Flor- 
entine Carnival ; there was every possible drollery of 
costume, and the air was buzzing with the flight of 
dolces and the chattering of the masks. The war was 
carried on with great spirit. 

^^ February 'jt/i. — Without wishing any guide, we 
wandered down the Corso. Shattered columns and 
mutilated statues, the facade of a temple protruding 
from some stall or shop, served to link us with the 
idea we wished to realize ; wandering on, we passed 
the magnificent column of Antoninus, now * purified ' 
by the Pope, and surmounted by a bronze of Saint 
Paul. More than half-way down the street, we turned 
to the left and came upon the Forum of Trajan, 
its massy granite columns lying scattered or broken 
round the area, with at one end the famed column. 
I need only glance at the antiquities we fell upon, for 
beyond all was the prince of ruins — the Coliseum. I 
have no time to express the emotions I felt at first 
standing within that terrific area where the blood of 
slaves and martyrs has so often run at the feet of 
thousands." 



192 Thomas G. Applet on. 

After much difficulty, Mr. Appleton succeeded in 
finding excellent rooms in the Via Tritone for him- 
self and Mr. Percival, up three long flights of stairs. 
He says : 

" My old woman seems honest and kind, and we 
trust that our ox-eyed boot-black will not steal any- 
thing. My landlady says I may leave all my things 
unlocked ; but I am too old for that." 

On the last day of the Carnival, to give it a coup de 
grace, the whole party determined to go to the masked 
ball of the evening. 

"We supplied ourselves with dresses from the 
shops, and put them on in Mr. Curtis's parlor. Our 
toilets furnished us with much laughter before we 
stood complete. I was a sailor in blue stripes, with 
Percival's Tyrolese belt round my waist, and a straw 
hat on my head ; Mr. Curtis was very droll without a 
mask, as the veritable Madame Starke " (the writer 
of the only guide-book for Italy then in use), " with 
Mary's cottage-bonnet on the back of his head, Paul- 
ine's gear for his female-ship, our lunch-basket on his 
arm, containing a mirror and the latest edition of 
madame's valuable work. Percival dressed as a dow- 
ager of the last century. At the ball we chanced to 
meet with no acquaintances, but had a deal of fun 
with the masks. Percival waltzed a V antique, Mr. 



Southern Skies. 193 

Curtis told folks the price of washing, and I halloed 
my brother ship-mates. It was very crowded and 
hot, though brilliant. Mr. Curtis was half afraid of 
meeting the other Dromio, Starke the veritable. A 
man came up to him, felt his pulse seriously, and said, 
* Siete uomo ,^ ' " 

Lent now began, and Mr. Appleton, without dis- 
tractions of society and the theatre, could apply him- 
self to the wonders of Rome, which are fully described, 
as he visited them from day to day, in the journal, as 
well as the studios of artists and firesides of friends. 

''''February 13///. — This morning we visited Thor- 
waldsen's studio, and spent much time there. He has 
many rooms, all full of unfinished works. An immense 
basso-rilievo, and the twelve apostles, for the King of 
Denmark, fill several rooms. We saw a fine statue of 
Byron, much admired a full-length likeness of a Rus- 
sian princess, pensively touching her finger to her 
cheek, and with a figure of Innocence. There were 
some miniatures of the Lion of Lucerne. Thorwald- 
sen is very like the busts of him ; the image of a 
patriarch, with a strong expression of amiability in his 
features. He wore a hairy Danish cap, quite droll — his 
silvery hair escaped from it upon his neck." 

At St. Peter's, on a first visit, he says : 
17 



194 Thomas G, Appleton, 

" We had no time to study out the Titanic groups 
on the ceiling of the * Last Judgment,' but merely felt 
the usual emotion of disappointment. There is much 
wanting to this performance — held to be the highest 
effort of human genius. It has little to which human- 
ity can attach itself ; and it is with a feeling of doubt, 
and a suspicion that the artist was not of the first cast 
of mind, that one examines the details of the great 
fresco. 

"Jackson talks much of Shelley. He knew him 
well ; says that he was a perfect child in his habits. 
He remembers Shelley telling him how fine a death 
he thought it would be to be shipwrecked in the 
bay of Spezzia. Poor lad ! He learned to know too 
well. 

"... While we were visiting the Palatine to-day, 
we made the alarming discovery that Mr. Curtis had 
lost our inseparable Starke. We were in distress ; but 
on driving back to the Farnese Garden were fortunate 
enough to find her enjoying a tete-a-tete with my vol- 
ume of Byron. 

^^ February 2^th. — Two nights since I visited the 
Coliseum by moonlight. It was one night only before 
full moon, and darkness seemed to have been annihi- 
lated ; long before the sun set, the effulgence of the 
moon seemed to rival it, and the garish, rosy hues of 
day changed, without death, into the broad silver glow 



Southern Skies. 195 

of an Italian night. The night skies here are very- 
peculiar ; they have no share of the obscurity of other 
lands, but their deep azure has a transparency and life 
that are inexpressibly beautiful. Byron knew what 
this was when he wrote the line — 

' Hues that have words and speak to us of heaven.' 

" We drove to the amphitheatre, and found, to our 
surprise, nearly a dozen carriages drawn up before the 
entrance. I thought the number of visitors would kill 
the solitude, but they only enforced the vastness and 
grandeur of the pile. Their voices were at times 
heard as from a far mountain, and their torches, as 
they burst from under some gap, poured a shower of 
light upon the old, haggard arches, their red play form- 
ing picturesque eifects of chiaro scuro^ that contrasted 
with the coldness of the moonlight. The effect from 
the moon was that all was light or all shadow ; the 
ribs of the seats running down to the arena seemed 
restored, the seats were in shadow, and the simplicity 
and force of the contrasts accorded with the sublimity 
of the structure. The contrast of the present and the 
past was full of poetry, thus to be contemplating, un- 
der a melancholy moon, in mournful silence, the arena 
which once rang to the applause of thousands peopling 
its stately walls. We joined a party also furnished 
with lanterns, and rambled everywhere. Every mo- 



196 Thomas G. Appleton. 

ment the effect was new and delightful. The vivid 
light broke through the darkness of the circular cor- 
ridors in white patches upon the pavement ; on every 
side rose arches upon arches. The stars 'twinkled 
through the loops of time.* Jupiter, especially, shone 
with fine brilliancy through an arch upon the northern 
side. 

'* Rome is now a city of artists; they have a delight- 
ful society of their own, and are held in high esteem. 
The name artist is the best passport to favor and kind- 
ness here. They have not the jealousy and ill-blood 
that mar other professions, but assist one another with 
the greatest good-will and esprit de corps. One can not 
take a walk without seeing some fellow seated on a 
ruined column, with his colors beside him, sketching 
some temple or group, unmolested and .abstracted. 
The galleries are full of them copying, and weeks 
may be spent visiting their studios. There is, too, 
a race of beings called models, a profession that ex- 
ists by the artists. One man has a fine head of hair, 
this other a well-turned arm ; such a girl has a noble 
head, and such a one a good body. Each lives upon 
some natural beauty. A man who is slovenly and 
miserable in all other respects, keeps his beard long 
and unsullied ; it is his stock in trade. 

^''February 26th. — To-day, again, we visited the 
artists ; refreshed ourselves with the sweet things of 



Sold hern Skies. 197 

Wyatt and Gibson. While we were at Gibson's, a 
boy came in with two snow-white pigeon-wings, to be 
modeled for Cupid ! " 

The party left Rome for an excursion of a few 
days to Tivoli, Adrian's Villa, and other objects of in- 
terest in the vicinity of Rome. When they returned 
they found, to their regret, that during their absence 
an application for audience with the Pope had been 
answered, and the day before fixed for the ceremony.^ 
They had lost the chance, by being away. They wrote 
for another audience ; but the answer was, " Too 
late." 

** March 6th. — Yesterday we ascended St. Peter's. 
The day was fine. The ascent is of brick, and with- 
out steps — an inclined plane as far as the roof of the 
body of the church. The apostles, on nearer acquaint- 
ance, we found to be rough giants, and the leads a 
perfect town, covered with sheds and corners without 
end. When standing within the railing of the dome, 
it was terrific to look below. Men were mice, and the 
marbles of the floor, at that distance, seemed a calico 
pattern. Above it was as if 'heaven were mining in.' 
All the dome is mosaic ; the bits are nearly half an 
inch square. It looks rough when seen close at hand, 
but very delicate at a distance. The ladies held fast 
to the railing, swimming with giddiness. 



198 Thomas G, Appleton. 

" From the lantern the view is very extensive, and 
we saw distinctly the sunny Mediterranean. 

"The rest of the day I gave to the Vatican, no 
longer a maze to me. I spent some hours in the Sis- 
tine Chapel. As I expected, I have completely changed 
my first ideas about this. I fully believe in the pre- 
eminence of Buonarotti, and almost own it superhu- 
man for any man to execute the ceiling in nineteen 
months. The colors are much faded, but seem to 
have been worthy the drawing. In fact, after coming 
from these grand forms^ I almost condemn Raphael 
for careless and trivial drawing. The * Last Judgment * 
is so very startling, one with difficulty gets over his 
first ideas of it ; but the more I study it, the more I 
am reconciled to the figure and attitude of the Saviour. 
He is full of an anger which is foreign to .him, but is 
justly excited by the wickedness of the condemned ; 
it enforces a more salutary and impressive moral than 
the sedate meekness with which he is usually invested. 

" The * Stanze ' of Raphael I can not too much ad- 
mire. The * Incendio del Borgo,* the * Chase of the 
Wicked from the Temple,' and the * Miracle of Bolse- 
na,' are among the finest works of this wonderful youth. 
What wonder he died at thirty-seven, consumed and 
exhausted by the ardent visions that every day grew 
more vivid to his fancy! The sword destroyed the 
scabbard too soon for the delight of our race, if not 



Southern Skies, 199 

too soon for the full illustration of how near to angelic 
genius the creature may ascend. 

" I was joined in the galleries by a priest, who was 
a droll character, and not a little crazy. He made the 
strangest remarks upon the pictures, and constantly 
bothered me with polemic subtilties. He wished much 
to know what was my idea of the particular nature 
of the fruit with which Eve tempted Adam. . . . 

" To-day we visited Pinelli. I have had a desire 
to make his acquaintance, as he is an original. We 
found him modeling some of his famous terra-cotta 
groups, and it was delightful to watch the stroke of his 
stick. He is a perfect master of Roman character, 
and every dash he made was happy, bringing out some 
new expression. His manner is artificially brusque 
but his genius is marked. 

" From him we visited Severn, the young artist who 
attended Keats in his last moments. In the parlor 
was a picture of his from the * Ancient Mariner,' poet- 
ically treated. Standing upon the ribs of the specter- 
ship, Life in Death holds up the die and exclaims, 
* I've won ! I've won ! * Severn's pictures have a rich 
manner of coloring, though he appears as yet young in 
art. There was a portrait of Keats which represented 
him less thin, though pale, than I had imagined him, 
and three likenesses of Trelawney. He has a fine head ; 
but no one would imagine him an Englishman ; his 



200 Thomas G. Appleto7i, 

locks and mustache are black as ink, and his hue and 
expression are Greek. I spent several hours with 
Severn in most agreeable conversation. He told me a 
thousand things about Keats, and regaled me with 
choice Falernian, very like claret, a present from a 
/^friend of Keats. We talked of Allston, Leslie, and 
poor Newton, and a thousand things, and parted with 
mutual wishes that we had sooner met. 

^^ March Zth, — Already the fever of departure has 
begun. I look upon all the old familiar columns and 
ruins as if to rivet them in my memory, since so soon 
they will be seen by me no more. In some places we 
have been taking up dropped stitches, revisiting the 
Vatican. We warmed ourselves before the Apollo, 
the Niobe, the Aldobrandini Marriage, the Minerva, 
(,^ etc. We roamed again over St. Peter's, and gained 
permission to descend into the old church built by 
Constantine. There we saw, among others, the tomb 
of Hadrian IV, the only English Pope, and the tombs 
of the Pretender and his brother Henry. 

" March gth, Sunday. — The last day ! We none of 
us had seen the Pope ; and as to go to Rome and not 
see the Pope has become a proverb to prove a fool, 
we determined to-day to be at the Sistine Chapel. We 
walked up the magnificent entrance to the Vatican 
through ranged files of the antique and many-colored 
Swiss Guard. Their costume is most gaudy, and un- 



Southern Skies, 201 

becoming a Pope's attendants. They carry halberds, 
and their red-plumed caps, slashed breeches, and ruf- 
fled necks, make them look like relics of the four- 
teenth century, as in fact they are. . . . 

" We were well tired when the rites were over, but 
my time was not lost, for I was studying all the while 
the wonders of the ceiling overhead. 

" I have paid for all my mosaics and cameos. Our 
imperial seems made aposta for our prints, of which we 
have bought a large supply. 

^^ March loth. — We drove silently down the Corso, 
looking our last at the columns, and when we swept 
under the Coliseum it was with sad feelings. We 
traversed the desolate part of Rome on the southern 
side, where the finest churches seem planted in a 
desert. 



Mr. Percival left the party at the end of their visit 
in Rome, remaining there while they went on. His 
place in the carriage was taken by Mr. Barnard, who 
had been found by his friends very ill on their first 
arrival in Rome. He was now well enough to be re- 
moved, although almost too weak for the journey. 

They were now on the way to Naples. The first 
night was spent at Velletri ; then they crossed the 
Pontine Marshes ; and beyond Terracina they came 
suddenly upon the sea. 



202 Thomas G. Appleton, 

" Our feelings were tumultuous. We rushed down 
to the soft, sandy shore, and almost kissed for joy the 
ripples that broke upon the beach. We listened to 
the old familiar music of the waves as to the welcome 
of an ancient friend. We sat upon the rocks, and fan- 
cied ourselves at Nahant. The rocks were redder, 
and the sea was bluer, and the far headlands wore 
a different, soft, sunny clearness, but the dashing of 
the billows was the same, and it seemed as if they 
must be the ones that had so often broken at my feet. 
Vessels skimmed along .the horizon, and I watched 
them as if they were messengers from home. I had 
touched upon a sudden spring of warm home-feelings 
and old memories. 

''''March 12th. — To-day we left St. Peter's estate 
and entered the kingdom of Naples. Our passports 
were examined, and we lost half an hour, but nothing 
further. Passing on, the scenery became deliciously 
Italian. We have seemed to note the increased tropi- 
calness at every post. Now we have reached a clime 
where a serene and languishing air steeps everything 
in sunny indolence, where the far sea wears the look 
of lapis lazuli, and over the senses is wafted a blended 
perfume by every breeze. We went through a perfect 
orange and lemon grove, these fairy fruits gilding the 
deep green. A variety of flowers I knew not were 
under foot. In short, we had entered the garden of 



Southern Skies, 203 

the earth, or, as the natives say, ' un pezzeito di cielo 
caduto in terra.* 

" As we drove up a hill once celebrated for ban- 
ditti, we remarked two fine caverns where doubtless 
these gentry stowed their spoils. Gasparo says he 
once was robbed in this very place, and soundly bas- 
tinadoed — although he is a stout fellow ! We stopped 
at Mola, most gloriously situated on the Mediterra- 
nean. Upon the terrace of our hotel the view was 
strikingly beautiful. Under and around us was all the 
glory of the Mediterranean. A number of Claude- 
like islands hung upon the horizon. One of the 
farthest, dimly seen through a cloud of sharp-sailed 
feluccas, snowy as sea-fowl upon the waters, was Ca- 
pri ; on the left was Procida, and above it, still far- 
ther coastward, Vesuvius reared its bifurcate head, 
its faint white smoke at times perceptible to the eye. 
On our right, far into the sea, stretched the bold town 
of Gaeta. Behind it rises a gentle hill. Surrounding 
our terrace a grove of oranges invited us to pluck, 
and the waves in long, silver ridges broke at our feet. 
All that my eye embraced, as the scene of the last 
book of the *^neid,' has been immortalized by Vir- 
gil." 

With as little delay as possible, to spare fatigue to 
Mr. Barnard, the travelers went on to the city of Na- 



204 Thomas G. Appleton. 

pies, which they reached on the 14th of March. They 
established themselves with the caution and experi- 
ence of old travelers, and devoted nearly three weeks 
to the city and its environs, although the weather 
was dull, the summit of Vesuvius veiled in mist, and 
beggars were rampant. But weather was of no im- 
portance when once they were within the walls of the 
Museo Borbonico, where there was enough to occupy 
the mind and delight the eye for any length of time. 
To their vexation, a /^/^-day closed the doors of the 
museum on their second attempt. 

"All the public buildings and many shops are 
shut. We made instead several visits. Called on the 
Jacksons, and found them melancholy as cats, on ac- 
count of the weather." 

The next day they returned to the inspection of 
the Museo. 

^^ March 21st. — To-day it is my fate to describe 
the most blase excursion in the world, one that is 
quite threadbare even to myself : we went to Baice'' 

Another day was devoted to shops ; lava and 
coral ornaments tempted them not in vain, and the 
Etruscan vases of Giustiniani. The weather continued 
stormy and the sea roared beneath their windows 
" like uncaged lions." 



Southern Skies, 205 

He says of Cumae : " The Cave of the Sibyl is no 
great affair. It seems to have been the city residence 
of her ladyship, whence she went to bathe at the Tar- 
tarean Lake." 

" Easter - Sunday, March 3ii'/. — To-day is my 
birthday, and the anniversary of my departure from 
New York. Certainly one year has taken off not a 
little of the edge of youthful adventure, not a little of 
the vivida vis of life. I got a letter from Percival to- 
day. He is pleased with Holy Week in Rome, and 
will join me here for Sicily." 

On the first of April, the Curtises and Mr. Barnard 
left Naples in the Francesco Primo for Leghorn ; but the 
rough sea prevented much progress, and the steamer, 
having received an injury to her piston, was obliged to 
put back. Mr. Appleton, on his return from Psestum, 
an expedition of two days, found them still at Naples ; 
he also found his friend Percival, and was ready to 
depart. 

^^ April $th. — In the greatest hurry, got my passport 
completed, took leave again of the Curtises, and all my 
other friends, and, leaving all my baggage but a sac de 
nuii and my haversack, went on board the Real Ferdi- 
nando with Percival. The paddles flew round, and 
we extricated ourselves from the forest of masts, with 

a fine wind on our quarter, which, as both our sails 

18 



2o6 Thomas G, Appleton. 

were spread, aided us much. We had about seventy 
on board, most of them English. The notable Ma- 
dame Starke was of the party ; I was very attentive to 
her, for which she expressed much gratitude, and in- 
vited me to her house at Sorrento. She is a very dif- 
ferent body from what I had imagined She can not 
be far from seventy-five, stout, and with a face good- 
humoredly ugly, seamed and burned with much trav- 
el. She did not seem very intelligent, though pretty 
learned, and quite feeble with age. She was sur- 
rounded by toadies plder and uglier than herself. 
She had made a capital mistake in bringing the body 
of her carriage to sleep in ! It was of no use,' and it 
caused her much trouble to send it back from Mes- 
sina." 

They passed between Scylla and Charybdis, with- 
out experiencing any of the dangers which have made 
these names famous, and the lovely Messina was 
reached. The steamer stopped, and they were sur- 
rounded with boats pouring forth Sicilian cries to 
attract attention. Mr. Percival and Mr. Appleton 
were rowed ashore, and found themselves upon the 
soil of the garden of Proserpine. 

This voyage was a round trip ; the steamer 
touched at the various ports of Sicily, allowing, at 
the least, an interval long enough for the passengers 



Southern Skies. 207 

to inspect each place. Catania and Syracuse were 
thus briefly visited ; they then crossed to Malta in a 
heavy sea, which caused many of the passengers to 
take to their beds. At Malta they found English car- 
pets and English hospitality, called for a bottle of 
English ale, and felt quite at home. 

On the return they stopped at Girgenti, and passed 
several days in Palermo, of which the bay, in Mr. 
Appleton's estimation, is more beautiful than that of 
Naples. 

" On the morning of the 29th,'* he writes, " we were 
skimming between the romantic heights of Amalfi and 
Capri, with the huge bay just in front. We came 
cracking up the gulf, old black Vesuvius looking a 
little ill, and not discharging his smoke so stoutly as 
before. Fresh from Palermo, I could venture an opin- 
ion, and boldly now assert, that bay to excel this of 
Naples. This glaring white town, the unrelieved 
brown of the hills, are inferior to the Sicilian beau- 
ties of Panormus. I began at once to prepare for 
departure next day. I visited Mr. John Lowell, and 
listened to his tales of travel. He has an artist with 
him on purpose to sketch for him, and intended 
going through the East with a cavalcade of twelve 
horses. 

^^ April ^oth. — At ten, all things in order, I found 



2o8 Thomas G. Appleton, 

myself on board the Francesco Primo, a little French 
steamer of sixty tons. It may be imagined I had had 
enough of steaming, but the comfort of quiet sketch- 
ing and reading makes me ever enjoy it. Our party, 
too, was good. Folks in a packet begin by staring, 
and end by shaking hands. Mrs. Gower, the clever 
wife of a Leghorn merchant, I had a legal title to be 
attentive to, and a blonde, blue-eyed German girl, and 
a newly married English lady, did not take^my knight- 
ly devoirs in dudgeon. We jounced out of the bay 
and waved our adieus to bella Napoli. The proverb, 
* Vedi Napoli e poi mori,' I felt not inclined to follow ; 
I can not say I left it with regret. Our sail was de- 
lightful, and unwillingly we retired to our couches. I 
had come so late as to be forced to take a berth in the 
second cabin, eating and sitting with the first-cabin 
passengers. When I descended the narrow stairway 
at midnight, I was reminded of the Campo Santo at 
Naples. In the dim lantern's light lay two or three 
gaping servant-maids, children were sprinkled over 
them, and around, sailors, waiters, and unfortunates 
like myself, all in their clothes, assumed various awk- 
ward attitudes. At the sides, more lucky ones were 
laid in berths, like the dead in the catacombs of Syra- 
cuse, with as much space, and as silent. 

" Despite the prospect, next morning I had to 
thank the Virgin for a quiet and unbitten night." 



Southern Skies, 209 

The steamer stopped at Civita Vecchia, where all 
went ashore ; but at noon they were off again. Mr, 
Appleton read the " Pilgrims of the Rhine," while 
Mrs. Gower embroidered, and the doctor sketched 
her. Before night they had glimpses of Elba and 
Corsica — "the propinquent cradle and cage," and, at 
seven the next morning, were riding in the open road- 
stead of Leghorn, amid feluccas and men-of-war. 

" The Baron de Poilly and I had combined, and 
we now took rooms in common. The baron is a French- 
man of the best sort, witty and full of good-humor — in 
short, a charming companion." 

A rapid excursion to Pisa, in a caliche^ gave Mr. 
Appleton a chance to see the famous leaning tower, 
the Campo Santo, and the palaces of the city. He 
came back in time to see somewhat of Leghorn ; 
called upon Mrs. Gower, now at home in tasteful 
apartments, " She showed me the table of Byron, a 
round, neat one, on which he wrote * Don Juan.' I 
envied madame this relic. It was left by Byron to 
Mr. Gower's partner, who received his last letter from 
Greece." 

One more night on board the steamer brought him 
to Genoa. 

" Here the baron surprised me with an early visit, 



2IO Thomas G, Appleton, 

and an offer quite pressing that I would join him in 
his phaeton, and drive to Marseilles along the Cornice, 
that we might enjoy it together, while his servant 
Edouard should take my place in the steamer. I con- 
sented, and we arranged matters. I had only time to 
see some of the interesting objects in Genoa — a Ma- 
donna by Paget, and a relief of Michael Angelo." 

This excursion proved delightful, as many other 
travelers have found it, the road hanging constantly 
upon cliffs over the Mediterranean. In the midst of 
a description of it, the journal stops abruptly, and, 
after a few . . . , is resumed in Paris on the 2 2d of 
May : 

"Alas for my neglected diary! Paris and Paris- 
ians, bewildering, have quite driven its existence from 
my memory. I find it impossible to retrace my im- 
pressions of fair Nice, industrious Toulon, and revo- 
lutionary Lyons, and must resume my tale in the very 
heart of the Frog nation." 



CHAPTER XII. 

TWO WEEKS IN A FRENCH CHATEAU. 
1834. 

Dramatis Personce : 

The Baron de Poilly. 

His daughter Cecile. 

Her husband Charles. 

Duchess of Fitz-James, the mother of Charles. 

LuciLE, younger daughter of the Baron. 

Henri, younger son of the Baron. 

Governess. 

Mr. Appleton has described in later years the 
beginning of his acquaintance with the Baron de 
Poilly, which grew into one of the pleasantest rela- 
tions of his lifetime. " Gliding along," he says, " un- 
der a Mediterranean sun, I was making, with the 
dreamy activity of the traveler, a sketch of a pictur- 
esque person in the steamer which was carrying me 
from Civita Vecchia to Marseilles. My subject was 
an alert, active Frenchman, with a flat traveling- 
casquette, and a ribbon at his button-hole, which 
somehow seemed to have been worn in imperial days. 



212 Thomas G. Appleton, 

and on the field of battle. Such proved afterward to 
be the case. After a fashion, a tolerable likeness was 
accomplished. This led to that easy acquaintance 
and fellowship so natural to unoccupied minds, when 
congenial. . . . We disembarked at Genoa, and went 
forward by land accordingly. The lovely coast, 
where our post-horses ran on a narrow ledge, smooth 
as a floor, with precipices and summits towering 
above us, scalloped into little indenting bays, each 
with its village as a center, made every moment a 
surprise. 

'' We dashed across France ; trying in Burgundy, 
as the accomplished baron insisted, the cheap cms of 
the country, to test his statement that this native wine 
has a flavor of the soil, and a homely merit of its own. 
We went twenty miles out of our way to Melun, to try 
its famous eels. Finally, Paris was reached. 

*'Then, for the first time, I really heard French. 
The grace and charm of it, as spoken by the family 
into which I was introduced, I had previously no idea 
of. And the pretty, old-fashioned, friendly, family 
ways were delightful. Games, in the evening, whose 
childishness would have repelled a Briton ; dances, in 
which old and young shared, their only raison d'etre 
being the seeming cheerfulness by which they were 
moved ; amusing talk with the duke — for there was a 
duke in the center of the circle, who, in the house of 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteaii. 213 

peers, led the Carlist chivalry of France. These were 
all novelties to me, freshly delightful, and justly seem- 
ing the fair spoil of travel. At that time Lafayette 
died. With a dignified wave of his hand, my duke 
permitted me, as an American, to join the funeral co7'- 
tdge. 

" ^ The most dangerous man in France,' he said ; 
* and he is well laid away in his family vault in the 
Picpus graveyard. With him lies buried the republic ; 
and in America, even, you will soon be of our opinion, 
and desire the dignity and comfort of a monarchy.'" 

Mr. Appleton enjoyed the society of these charm- 
ing friends as long as they remained in Paris ; a fort- 
night after their departure, he followed them, by cor- 
dial invitation, to Picardy, where his journal is re- 
sumed : 

" FoLEMBRAY, Jiim ^th. — Two days ago, at eight 
in the morning, I was glad to leave the steamy air 
and stunning streets of Paris, in the diligence for 
Compiegne. The features of our drive were those 
universal to a French highway — a huge, wide road 
with a raised, rumbling pavd in the middle, flanked as 
far as the weary eye can reach with files of elm, or 
that nuisance of France, the poplar. Villages num- 
berless we went through, of equal beauty — or want of 



214 Thomas G, Applet on, 

it, as you please; in one of them we met a bridal- 
party, all with big bouquets in their hands. 

" Passed the night at Compiegne, and went on the 
next day to Chauny, a town of about five thousand 
inhabitants, full of glass-factories. There I borrowed 
a chamber at a cafi^ and made my toilet, while I 
hired a lad to hire a vehicle to carry me to Folem- 
bray, which is off the diligence-route, about two 
leagues away. 

" After passing through a lovely country, I turned 
a corner, and saw the house of my friends afar at the 
end of a long forest of magnificent trees. I jumped 
out of the gig in my ardor, and hurried forward. On 
ascending a swell, the whole estate burst upon me in 
its loveliness ; at my feet was spread a little lake, and 
on its farther side, behind a quaint old dove-cote and 
various out-buildings, rose the elegant house of the 
Baron de Poilly. It is large and square, with a ter- 
race supported by columns in front. The moment 
I had mounted the slope, I was seen, and hats and 
handkerchiefs were waved to me from the windows. 
I rushed forward to embrace friends as kind as I 
ever had, and ones of whom I am proud, as their 
acquaintance is all of my own making. They all 
met me in the court-yard, and Dash and Love leaped 
upon me with affection. Edouard, too, the valet, 
welcomed me with his civilities. I was instantly 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 215 

carried into the house and installed in a room next 
the baron. They all took me over the house, which is 
furnished in a style of simple elegance. The baron's 
apartment is decorated with boars' tusks, stag-horns, 
and the like. 

" Instantly a thousand plans were projected for my 
amusement. After a bottle of cider, they all accom- 
panied me over the grounds. 

" We passed over a lovely lawn to a white bridge 
spanning the little lake. By winding paths and tufted 
groves of various trees, we wound up the side of the 
hill behind the house, and visited a neat and pretty 
garden, and, passing through berceaux cut in the for- 
est, we gained the height whence an enchanting pros- 
pect burst upon me. At our feet was the little village 
of Folembray, of which the baron is the lord and 
patron ; it has only nine hundred inhabitants. The 
valley before us was full of round and verdant for- 
ests, and bits of water running off into the far blue ; 
while on the left, from the crest of a bold rock, rose 
the fine ruins of the chateau Coucy, completing an 
unrivaled picture. 

"We returned, and horses were ordered. In a 
trice the groom brought four to the door, and madame 
appeared, lovely in full riding-dress. She tells me the 
family are called MinotaurSy on account of their fond- 
ness for riding. We mounted and rode through a 



2i6 Thomas G. Appleton. 

rich plain till we reached the Coucy cliff, up whose 
green side we wound, the baron nodding on all sides 
to the passers. 

" The castle is the finest ruin I have seen in 
France. The Coucys were the tyrants of this prov- 
ince, and waged constant war with the suzerains of 
the environs. There is a horrible legend of Raoul 
de Coucy, who made his wife eat the heart of an 
enemy ! Nothing can be imagined stronger than this 
workmanship of the thirteenth century. It has suf- 
fered severely from an earthquake, but is still full of 
interest. Everywhere are little niches in rich Gothic, 
giving an idea of what the whole must have been. In 
the small town on the right hand is an oubliette. This 
tower retains its frescoes. 

" We returned by a circuitous route through a 
charming country. Suddenly a thunder-shower passed 
over and broke upon our heads. We were almost 
pelted from our saddles, and, spurring on, pushed like 
the wind for home-shelter. Madame bore herself most 
gallantly. Every one laughed at us as we dashed 
through the villages. At last we gained the basse- 
cour, and hurried in to change our habiliments. Soon 
we were laughing it over in the parlor. Delicious is 
the view from this room, and most comfortable it is, 
with flowers and prints, and drawings of the baron's 
favorite dogs. We dined capitally, at half-past five, 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteaii. 217 

vegetables, in honor of my English notions, being 
served with every course. Afterward, we smoked on 
the terrace, while Madame Cecile made a cap for her 
baby. The evening was spent, without candles, chat- 
ting. The gouvernanie told me she felt perfectly ac- 
quainted with me at once, principally because I had 
been educated after the Fellenberg manner ! 

'* To finish the evening, after a game of billiards, 
they got out the rare books of the library. We all 
retired early — about ten, and so ends one of the 
pleasantest days of my life. 

"Jufie 6th. — By accident, I was dressed to-day be- 
fore the baron, entered his room and found him read- 
ing. At eight I joined Charles and Cecile, who went 
to the lake to fish for carp and brocket^ of which the 
lake is full. While they fished, I took the boat and 
rowed out into the lake to sketch the house and this 
group of fishers. They had no great good fortune 
except bites, and Cecile returned to the house in de- 
spair. Charles soon after was rewarded by jerking 
into the air an enormous carp, which, however, es- 
caped him. We occupied ourselves as each saw fit 
till breakfast — sewing, walking, reading, sketching. 
They had sent me coffee at eight, therefore I was 
quite equal to awaiting lunch ; I sketched the wood- 
scene from the bridge, with the swans. 

" Lunch was, as in England, copious and almost 
19 



2i8 Thomas G, Appleton, 

a dinner, but here it is a breakfast. Capital potatoes, 
the first I had seen in France. After this meal, a gen- 
tleman was descried descending the hill, and all ran 
to meet him, as he is the chief friend of the family. 
He ate bread and milk in the arbor for his breakfast. 
The baron then took me to visit his glass-factories, 
which are just behind the house, and the smoke of 
which made me at first fear it was a fire. This estab- 
lishment he inherited, but has much enlarged it. 

" The dinner-bell rang at six, and all having com- 
pleted our toilets we descended. It is usual to dress 
completely twice a day. In the morning a free un- 
dress for fishing, driving, etc., but for dinner full dress 
is requisite. We had a brocket^ taken in the lake, a 
noble fish resembling a pike. The dinner was excel- 
lent, and the cream for our strawberries thick as oil 
and yellow as gold. After dinner we smoked, and in 
the buio had a conversation upon literature, in which 
the gouvernante denounced the generality of modern 
French novels as of the worst influence upon the 
young, whether it be the * horrible * school of Victor 
Hugo, or the amorous tales of other writers. 

^^June ph. — Edouard brought me my coffee early, 
after which I sauntered forth to sketch. I met a gen- 
tleman (whom I afterward ascertained to be some- 
what light-headed), who accompanied me to the spot 
I had in mind. This poor gentleman believes that we 



Two Weeks in a French Chdtcau, 219 

Americans eat young children, and it was my cue to 
astound him with Munchausen stories. Once when I 
sprang up to look for my India-rubber which had 
escaped me, he fled in terror, crying out, ^ II a eu U7i 
acces ! * At breakfast we amused ourselves with him, 
and I continued to be a sort of wild animal in his 
eyes. 

" The baron proposed a visit to Saint-Gobin, a fa- 
mous manufactory of mirrors, and we went on horse- 
back, I riding the * Cossack.' This establishment is 
the largest of the sort in France. 

*' Jutie Zth. — To-day we were to hunt the chevreuil^ 
and departed early with a garde de chasse and the 
Comtesse, a dog of an indigenous breed, excellent 
for hunting wild-boars and the roebuck. We trailed 
across the woods for a league, until we reached the 
hunting-ground, and loaded with about a duck-charge, 
though our pieces were short wood-guns. We were 
stationed along an alle'e in the wood, down or 
across which we knew the beast would make when 
started by Comtesse, the guard beating round with 
the dog higher up. After only a short interval, for 
the forest abounds in game, we heard the deep, ear- 
nest baying of the dog moving from left to right and 
advancing upon us. Presently, through the thicket, 
I saw the roebuck dancing along with Comtesse at its 
heels, tossing her nose in the air, and giving tongue 



2 20 Tho7nas G, Applet on. 

most sonorously. I thought the varmint would take a 
stand in a sort of berceau in front, and therefore I ad- 
vanced upon it, which was wrong, as the beast saw 
me and fled incontinently. However, soon he crossed 
the alley lower down than where we were, and de- 
scended the hill into the bosom of the forest. We 
followed hotly, when suddenly we roused another old 
fellow with longish horns ; having put the dog on this 
new-comer, we again took our stations, and seemed 
likely to get a shot, but the buck made oif, and, after 
waiting some time, we went home without a shot. 

^''June ^th. — To-day was proposed a visit to the 

Duchesse de C , and a cruise round the country. 

To-morrow Charles goes to town, but he accompanied 
us a part of the way. The morning was perfection, and 
our path was as usual across the woods. The long, 
green branches filliped our noses as we rode through 
them, and the birds sprang away screaming when we 
invaded their remote bowers. 

"When we emerged, long, sweeping hills, thickly 
wooded and crowned with waving wind-mills ; valleys 
shining with villages and a sheet of cultivation, were 
the features of the scenery. We cut across orchards, 
stealing cherries from the trees. After about two hours 
we came in sight of the chateau of the duchess. It 
is a great modern affair, with little wings and a large 
body, like a show-turkey. In front is a sward, with a 



Tzvo Weeks in a French Chdteau. 221 

little ^tang and a white bridge, like the baron's, but not 
so pretty. We found the duchess had * gone to ves- 
pers,* though it was noon ; and there was no servant 
to help us in stabling our horses, except a big-armed 
wench of Picardy. We made ourselves at home, how- 
ever — walking, sketching, and gathering flowers. At 
last, however, the duchess returned with her husband. 
She is a short little thing, amiable, and so forte d 
Vesprit that we never heed her lack of beauty. Her 
husband seemed very good-natured. They were both 
very hospitable and kind. The duchess got out cu- 
rious books for me. They insisted upon our staying 
to dinner. The duchess is a savante^ has read Mrs. 
Trollope and the Prince Puckler, and is full of a 
short, repartee wit. She spent the evening picking out 
colors for embroidery, while we laughed over her ex- 
cellent caricatures. 

** We were to have departed at seven ; but Saint- 
Medard, whose day it is, and who, being a neighbor, 
is especially attentive to all hereabout, brought up a 
banging rain over our heads, which obliged the duke 
to order beds for us. I slept well ; and, in the morn- 
ing, after coffee in my room, the duke appeared in his 
dressing-gown, to see us off. It still rained, and, leav- 
ing our horses behind us, we took the diligence for 
Laon. 

" I can not think that this easy hospitality would 



222 Thomas G. Appleton, 

be shown to a stranger in England; every day con- 
vinces me of the untruth of the statement that there 
is no home comfort in France, or never beyond Paris. 
We reached Laon in two hours, and dried our clothes 
before mine host's fire, at the Hure or Boar's Head. 

" There we found Monsieur de L , and with 

him sought the house of a friend of the baron, who 
gave us a glorious breakfast, with artichokes cooked in 
the incomparable way I find hereabout. The rain 
moderating, we sallied out to visit the cathedral. . . . 

*' We drove home in the baron's tilbury, which was 
sent after us, leaving Edouard to pick up the horses ; 
and returned to a late dinner, while the family, who 
had done, sat round us for the sake of chat. 

^''June iith. — At half-past six in the morning the 
baron sent to inquire which of four plans for amuse- 
ment I should prefer. I decided to accompany him 
to breakfast with a family about two leagues off, known 
in the neighborhood for their excessive pride of birth. 
When once there was some prospect of one of their 
family becoming a cardinal, they are reported to have 
said, *Z<? bon Dieu veut pour la rdligion quelqu'un de notre 
sang.' Afterward, when this scion of their stock was 
not appointed, our witty duchess remarked that the 
bon Dieu seemed to have had enough of that blood. 

" Unfortunately, the two ladies, who are genuine 
characters, did not appear — one was ill, and their 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteau, 223 

sympathy is such that, when that is the case, the other 
goes to bed too. The chateau, with its grounds, which 
are very English, is pretty, and justified their good 
opinion of it. 

" At Chauny, on our way, the baron stopped to 
visit an old woman, whom he esteems much for her 
conduct when the Cossacks were here. Her two sons 
were shot dead at her door for firing on the Russians, 
and left there three days, as an example to the town. 
During this time the poor mother could not leave her 
house without passing the corpses of her sons. 

" I spent several hours among the ruins of Coucy, 
examining the enormous tower, sketching, and dream- 
ing among the shrubbery of the days of past glory of 
the house. The frescoes still remain, and the circular 
chambers must have been very grand. 

" We spent the evening merrily, with many a lively 
tale. My mis-attempts to pronounce the French queue 
amused the family much. 

^''June i^th. — Saint-Medard yesterday and to-day 
has continued to sustain his reputation ; we have scarce- 
ly dared venture beyond the garden, so frequent and so 
sudden are the showers. I have been reading Dumas's 
'Impressions de Voyage,' and find it very clever — par- 
ticularly interesting to me, as he had the same guide I 
did (Payot) through the environs of Chamouni, and he 
made many of the same remarks to me that he did to 



224 Thomas G, Applet on, 

Dumas. The important event yesterday was the ar- 
rival of a rich cousine of the family, an original charac- 
ter. She is quite rich and entirely independent. She 
prefers to live in a little, plain house, all alone, with- 
out ostentation. She does much good, sending cows, 
flannels, and all things needful to the sick and suffer- 
ing peasants in her neighborhood. She gave Henri 
one day a present of several thousand francs, all in hard 
cash, which she found and took out of all sorts of cu- 
rious corners, tobacco-jars, preserve-pots, etc. ! 

" To-day arrived a s.till more important character, 
the Duchess, la belle mlre^ who appeared in a pouring 
shower. Cecile and the baron had gone forth to meet 
her, and returned with her. She came in her flowered 
caliche J much time was consumed in unpacking the 
vehicle, and others that came afterward containing her 
effects. At dinner I saw her fairly. She is an old 
lady, with one of those comfortable, unmarked faces 
that one can not remember a long time. She was 
dressed very simply, and her manners are as plain as 
possible. She has not the wit of the Duchesse de 

C , but quite as much good-nature. She spent the 

evening at her embroidery. Cecile, the young mother, 
made a froc for her baby ; Lucile threaded a bit of 
stuff with silver ; and the baron turned over some 
views in Switzerland. As usual, all retired by half- 
past ten. Now Charles is gone, M. Q is my 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 225 

opponent at billiards, and I find him a hard cus- 
tomer. 

"June \Afth. — During the intervals when the sun 
shines and the birds sing, we take the duchess round 
the grounds. She is delighted with the charming 
views and umbrageous alleys. 

" We were very lucky in a drive we took to Coucy. 
A blue sky relieved the sun-struck towers, and the 
gray shadows falling sharply at the angles and soft- 
ened round the old tower like the deepening tints 
of a flower, made the place wear its finest charms. 
Around the tower flit numbers of rooks, the only 
ones I have seen in France. They give an admirable 
effect. 

" The duchess proves a most amiable person, and 
as we sat vis-^-vis in the carriage, we had an agreeable 
conversation upon Cooper's novels, on which she sur- 
prised me by the justice of her criticisms. In con- 
versing with the French nobility, no idea of rank 
comes into one's head, they are so natural and modest 
in their manners. Perhaps one springs a Utile quicker 
to pick up the fan of a duchess than another, espe- 
cially if she be agreeable ; but that is the only differ- 
ence. 

*' Cecile, the charming daughter of the house, 
whom I sometimes call mademoiselle^ she is so young 
and girlish, is a most amiable wife and mother. She 



2 26 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

awaits with impatience the return of her husband, 
who writes her every day. She has copied for me 
her brother-in-law's * Lines written in Prison,' and she 
has also presented me with an Egyptian idol ! This 
evening was passed as usual, except that the duchess 
and Cecile joined us and played billiards. They 
play with cues, like all French ladies, and Cecile was 
in fine play. She beat all the gentlemen. 

^^Jufie i^th. — Birds and sunshine to-day have got 
the better of Saint-M^dard, and after breakfast we all 
took a promenade up to the hill-top behind the house. 
La vieille cousine was dragged along, much against her 
will, and contrary, I fancy, to her habits, as she seized 
every opportunity to rest upon the benches we met. 

'* The others could not wait till I had finished my 
sketch ; so they left me basking upon the turf, and 
penciling the humble roofs of Folembray, the proud 
towers that crest the distance, and the forest waving 
between. 

^* Cecile has been all day in a flutter, for Charles 
was to return ; and that he might be welcomed with 
due honors, after dinner, at the hour he should come, 
we formed a cortege to meet him. Henri, in a droll 
surtout, and looking like an English huntsman, and 
his father, were on horseback. The duchess and the 
rest of us were in the caleche^ driven by Monsieur 
Q ; the servants in livery, as usual. Love, in 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 227 

his excitement, nearly leaped out of the carriage, till 
Lucile restrained him with her handkerchief. Cecile 
was near imitating the dog in her impatience for her 
husband, and she was the first to cry, * I see him ! ' 
afar down the avenue, in his carriage. After the 
shower of welcomes was over, Cecile got into his car- 
riage, and we all drove home, so soon that there was 
no need of the stock of cloaks with which we had 
been provided. 

" Charles returned laden with the results of his 
commissions — ornaments for the baby, my watch, 
which he had taken to be mended, and, best of all, 
a box of excellent cigars, which we forthwith pro- 
ceeded to essay on the steps. 

"June \^th. — All things have an end ; and, after 
a fortnight, I must close my visit. I am pressed to 
stay, and, I doubt not, with genuine sincerity. 

" I sent to Chauny to order a vehicle for nine to- 
morrow — the same in which I came ; but how differ- 
ent will be my sensations from those with which I 
mounted before its crazy steps ! 

" Before bedtime, Edouard had packed all my 
things skillfully. I took farewell of the duchess, as 
she rises late, and I shall not see her again. 

" Saint-Quentin, June 16th. — Last night was 
troubled ; thunder pealed and the winds howled as if 
to share my distress at departure. I took my solitary 



228 Thomas G, Applet on, 

bowl of milk, garnishing it with three eggs, against 
grief and the journey, and then visited the baron's 
chamber, where I found Charles and Henri, all in 
morning-dress. We smoked until my voiture was an- 
nounced. All the family, the duchess excepted, were 
on the steps to see me off. I lingered as long as pos- 
sible, fixing and refixing my various little packages. 
The baron has my address, and we have promised to 
write. On saying that ugly word * adieu,* I kissed 
warmly the cheeks of all the gentlemen, and the fair 
hands of all the ladies, and did not find the custom 
either affected or ridiculous. Then, jumping into my 
gig, I was driven from the door, amid the waving of 
handkerchiefs and the bows of the servants. As I 
jolted down the avenue, I took a last look — I have 
faith that Heaven will not make the word literal — at 
the white mansion and the sparkling lake. 

*' I was too sad to speak, and the commonplace 
efforts of my driver to be agreeable but added to my 
gloom. 

*' As a traveler I have acquired a philosophy for 
the severing of pleasant ties generally, but I confess 
that here it fails me. 

" I arrived at Chauny in an hour, and just in time 
for the diligence for La Fere. I was in the coupi and 
alone — it was well." 



Two Weeks in a French Chdteau. 229 

Mr. Appleton resumed his solitary travels, and 
drove through Belgium to Brussels, where he stopped 
a few days, then passing on to Antwerp. There was 
some difficulty about crossing into Holland, as Bel- 
gium was not then in accord with the Prince of 
Orange, and Mr. Appleton was obliged to pass a 
dismal night on the frontier, awaiting permission to 
leave. 

" We were allowed to proceed some small distance 
on the Dutch side without molestation. The Belgi- 
ans had amused themselves by scribbling on my pass- 
port, and all seemed in a prosperous way. But we 
were hailed at a guard-house, and ordered to stand." 

In a small, ten-foot cabin, with other travelers who 
had arrived before, he was obliged to wait indefinitely 
for "further orders." 

" I was the last the house would hold, and en- 
gaged to sleep in a low, musty room, with a courier. 
I say to sleep — the future was not then unveiled to 
me. My companions were artists, who had been 
waiting eight days, carrying on a long correspond- 
ence with the Prince of Orange. Their crime is be- 
ing Belgians, and they despondingly said they saw 

no end to the matter ; but stay they must, as they 
20 



230 Thomas G, Appleton, 

have not money to make the detour of the longer 
route. 

" To cheer me, when the landlady discovered my 
nationality, she said there was another American who 
waited twelve days ere he passed, awhile since. All 
this frightened me, but I buried my sorrows in my 
dinner, which consisted of a certain black, grainy ma- 
terial the landlady hesitated not to pronounce beef- 
steak. 

" My afternoon was spent in cogitating the ad- 
vantages of passports, wars, and frontiers, and in pok- 
ing the peat-fire with my stick. I took a walk and 
sketched a cow ; the association reminded me of my 
supper, so I returned and ate a bowl of bread and 
milk. We smoked, we chatted, took down the old 
draught-board from the wall and played. 

" At ten all were in bed but myself. I seem to 
have had a sort of presentiment. At length I threw 
myself on the pallet beside the snoring courier, and 
actually fancied I was going to sleep. Vain hope ! 
Hungry and innumerable hordes of such warriors as 
do infest lowly couches campaigned on my wincing 
limbs. I rolled and rolled again, and, horrid thought, 
I feared I should never sleep ! I sprang from my 
enemies, and, not knowing why or how I dressed, I 
darted forth into the street, rushed up and down 
the solitary road, and, getting weary, crept into a 



Two Weeks ift a French Chdteau. 231 

silent farm-yard, and stretched myself upon a cold, 
hard cart in the middle of it. I was nearly asleep, 
when rheumatic chills reminded me of the exposure 
of the damp boards. I burst again into the house, 
and, throwing myself into a chair before the extin- 
guished fire, in an instant was asleep. Unconscious 
that a moment had passed, I found it broad day as 
a man in the dress of a postilion touched me on the 
shoulder. * Here it is,' said he ; * I have ridden long 
and late, not to detain the gentleman.' 

" * Here is what ? ' I seized the paper ; it was the 
permission — the dear never-to-be-too-much-welcomed 
permission to cross the frontier, and in a few mo- 
ments, waving triumphantly the paper in my hand, I 
started in a crazy chaise, with a soldier and a gar^oii 
de poste. 

" The artists looked wistfully after me. 

** * You have no permissions ? ' I asked. 

^* ' No, but we are resolved to steal across the 
frontier to-night.' 

" * Bon voyage^ and au revoir in America, where 
there are, thank Heaven, no passports and no fron- 
tiers ! '" 

Here the journal ends in a burst of gratitude for 
the royal permission of the Prince of Orange, at Bre- 
da, on the 19th of June, 1834. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

WANDERING YEARS. 
I.— 1835-1844. 

The curtain falls abruptly, and shuts out the scene 
which has shown so vividly the events of Mr. Apple- 
ton's life. Suddenly, the picture which appeared so 
close to us that every detail of it might belong to yes- 
terday is withdrawn, and a gap of fifty years renders 
everything dim and distant. For the motive of actions 
we are left to conjecture ; only bundles of old letters, 
yellow with time, connect the chain of events, besides 
the friendly reminiscences of the few remaining com- 
panions who are still here. Mr. Appleton from this 
time dropped the good but difficult habit of keeping 
a regular journal ; there are one or two exceptions, 
but in general he trusted to his letters, especially those 
to his father, to give an account of himself. 

His little sketch-books, however, of which there 
was always one in his pocket in the early days of his 
travels, carry on the story for a time. A small, yellow, 



Wandering Years, 233 

marble-covered duodecimo, much worn at the corners, 
shows that he spent the summer of 1834 in England 
and Scotland. Nothing escaped his quick eye and 
ready pencil. 

The study-window of Geoffrey de Monmouth, the 
cone-like outline of Malvern Hills, a little sketch of 
Grisi taken at Cheltenham, the interior of Shake- 
speare's room at Avon, a specimen dowager at Leam- 
ington with a cap terrific in frills and feathers — War- 
wick and Manchester — are followed by a series of 
Scotch subjects, in one of which Ellen, the fair Lady 
of the Lake, awaits Fitz- James in her boat, beneath 
the overhanging branches of Loch Katrine. 

The last sketch in the little book is of stewards on 
shipboard, from which we may gather that his face 
was turned homeward. After eighteen months of 
wandering in Europe, in fact, Mr. Appleton sailed for 
New York, October i, 1834, in the packet North 
America, arriving November 6th. His pleasant trav- 
eling companions, Mr. and Mrs. T. B. Curtis, with 
their little daughter Mary, were again fellow-passen- 
gers. There were thirty in all, but, like most return 
voyages, this one seems to have lacked the sparkle 
of the first. Mrs. Curtis, not long after this return 
home, wrote to a mutual friend in Florence : 

" Our friend Appleton is one of the lions of society, 
having a great variety of Parisian and Highland vests, 



234 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

an English white top-coat, and fancy studs from all 
parts of the world, exhibiting all the ruins of Rome in 
mosaic, and Berlin-iron in every shape. In fact, he is 
voted a fop ; but he and I laugh at the report, it is 
but a whim of the day." 

The delight of his return, and the great happiness 
of joining again his father, whom he so revered and 
loved, and of sharing with his dear sisters and brother 
the repose and comforts of home, were disturbed be- 
fore very long by the anxiety of the family on account 
of Charles's health. He was ill during the summer, 
under the care of Dr. Warren in October, 1835, and 
died before the end of the month. On the i6th of 
November following, Mr. Nathan Appleton, with his 
remaining children, Thomas, Mary, and Fanny, sailed 
for Europe, accompanied by William Appleton, a 
second - cousin of the young people, and another 
cousin, J. Appleton Jewett, who afterward published 
his impressions of Europe. Apparently there was a 
dog in the party also ; Mr. Jewett writes from the 
cabin, to Mrs. Samuel Appleton : 

*' Packet-Ship Francis Depau, November 16, 1835. 

" Here we lie, still moored at the very point where 

we took leave of you this morning. The wind has 

been so unfavorable that the pilot would not venture 

to weigh anchor. . . . When you had vanished from 



Wandering Years, 235 

our eyes, we gave way for a time to some melancholy 
emotions, and then addressed ourselves to business. 
All things were set in order for the voyage, and then 
we promenaded, and chatted, and laughed, and in- 
quired out the company. Miss Fanny took a very 
-V pretty sketch of the surrounding scene, and Miss Mary 
went with me into a little, hot kitchen. Uncle Nathan 
ingratiated himself with the captain, and Tom made 
merry with his dog, and declared that 'his tail would 
soon put forth leaves ' ; Mr. William looked, as Miss 
Maria might say, * angelic' . . ." 

T. G. A. adds a postscript to the letter : 

" I am almost sorry I did not go ashore yesterday, 
if only to get the kiss I missed when we parted. I in- 
close two warm ones in this sheet, freighted with my 
last American ideas, hopes, and fears. We have for a 
day been rehearsing the voyage ; lying still — an excel- 
lent plan, as it gives the timid time to recover. I give 
you one wild farewell, and a sketch of our party (in 
pen and ink on the margin) in their present attitudes, 
looking their last upon the land of liberty. 

" Yours affectionately, T. G. A. 

" P. S. — Alas ! we have no buckwheats on board." 

Mr. William Appleton, who went abroad in search 
of health, died the following summer at Schaffhausen, 



236 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

deeply regretted by a wide circle of friends. He was 
a young man of great promise and charm of char- 
acter. 

Two years were pleasantly passed in traveling on 
the Continent, passing over ground where Thomas was 
well able to act as guide, visiting scenes new as well 
to him as to the others. The family traveled in Switz- 
erland in their own carriage, and he sometimes left 
them, to walk from one place to another, rejoining the 
carriage at points agreed upon beforehand. It was on 
one of these occasions that he found, on meeting the 
family, his place occupied by a young American gen- 
tleman, whom they had lately met — Mr. H. W. Long- 
fellow, of Portland. 

A tedious interruption of their travels was caused 
at Mayence, where both the young ladies were at- 
tacked by a sort of gastric fever, by which the father 
and brother were detained with them, in a dull Ger- 
man town, for several weeks. It may be guessed that 
Mr. Appleton, in this later experience, had enough of 
Germany, for in all his subsequent travels abroad he 
avoided that country, in favor of England and sunnier 
climes, and he never had much sympathy for German 
traits, or proficiency in the language. 

Mr. Nathan Appleton and his son endured their 
enforced stay at Mayence with wonderful patience. 
Thomas writes to a near relative at home : 



Wandering Years, 237 

" Mayence, October lo, 1836. 
" I do not think it is fair, after all your kindness, 
to allow a post to escape uncommissioned by our party, 
and as the ladies fair are hors de combat, I champion 
myself to say something in their place. You may like 
to know that the foul fiend that just now so annoys us 
is gastric fever, a sort of infliction of these regions for 
the vile compounds of their kitchen, bred of grease, 
lard, and all the abominations of the German sausage. 
The doctor, one Herr Grose, a vast, rotund, cane-sus- 
tained stranger, most attentively pock-marked, dares 
not confess this, but shakes his head and says eternally, 
^Ayez de la patience* What with him and the fever, 
the girls have dragged through a most unsentimental 
month. The prominent feature of the malady, its 
slowness, is just now, within jump of Paris, the ugliest 
that any disorder could wear. But I am happy to say 
that all goes on well, and soon we shall be cracking our 
whips over the chauss^e to Paris, where we shall make 
up for lost time. Father and I lounge an hour at the 
Casino over the * Charivari,* and another at the Favor- 
ite, a delicious promenade along the Rhine, and then 
hurry home to drown our sorrows, amid red-legged 
partridges, with the tender exhilaration of Mr. Kaiser's 
very best Grafenberger. So you perceive our days are 
much like days in Boston — meaning to pay them no 
very extensive compliment on the score of variety. 



238 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

*' We have actually taken to window-gazing, and I 
recount to Mary, as Rebecca to Ivanhoe, the marvels 
I espy abroad. We are just on the river's brink, and 
opposite the only bridge; so we have a famous selec- 
tion among barrels and tarry Dutchmen on week-days, 
and trim and well-laced officers on Sundays. Out of 
this it is no difficult matter for do-nothings to weave 
long romances ; we have also ferreted out a nest of 
overgrown rats, at the corner of our hotel, said to be 
of the same family who, of old, ate up the wicked 
Bishop of Mayence, and 'nibbled his very miter,' as 
says the ballad. I have often seen them, of a shiny 
morning, waddling about with a most diabolical leer in 
the shadow of our neighbor's house ; I see the inher- 
ited stain of blood in the very timidity of their mincing 
steps. So you perceive we are as full of news and 
bustle as a ship or a prison-yard. 

" Father seems to take it all quite patiently. Quiet 
is in his way more than in mine. We have a theatre, 
but there he is shy of going ; he is almost as hard to 
drag out of an evening as at home. He consented, 
however, to see with me * Hamlet ' in German. We were 
both much edified, and the tears came into our Apple- 
ton eyes as naturally as if we really understood what 
was going on." 

All dullness was forgotten in the rapid journey 



Wandering Years. 239 

from Mayence to Paris. Every mile that brought them 
nearer to the great capital was a gain. They passed 
through in their traveling-carriage much of the terri- 
tory which became in 1870 the battle-ground between 
France and Germany, little dreaming as they did so 
that the insignificant towns where they " baited " were 
to become historical, like those already famous as 
battle-fields in the wars of Louis XIV. 

In 1837 the Appletons returned to America, and 
to the pleasant home in Beacon Street, where the three 
young people entered with zest into society. Boston 
was a different place from the Boston of to-day. 
Small it was, and provincial, perhaps ; but the inti- 
macy of the leading families, the ease and simplicity 
of social gatherings, accompanied as these were by 
the cultivation and intelligence for which the town 
was then gaining its reputation, made it a charming 
place to live in. And, though Mr. Appleton early 
described his native city as " a good place to go away 
from," none more thoroughly than he enjoyed the 
friendly luxury of its life. 

Two winters were passed in Boston ; the summer 
home of the family was at Pittsfield, the native place 
of Mrs. Nathan Appleton, in the old mansion belong- 
ing to her people. 

During his father's absence, Thomas keeps him in- 
formed of the family welfare : 



240 Thomas G, Applet on, 

"Boston, May 2, 1838. 

" Dear Father : I will not insult your memory of 
the past by hinting that there can be news. We are 
hopefully torpid as ever, painfully waiting the rolling 
off of this wet blanket of a storm, to believe that May 
it is. Some of the schools yesterday had planned an 
old-fashioned Maying. What came of it I don't know, 
through the mud and pother. Fancy the poor things 
dabbling in pools for buttercups, their India-rubbers 
ankle-deep in mud ! 

" The Allston Gallery draws famously when the 
sun peeps out, and every day some new hand cracks 
off a puff at it. Holmes has a loud one to-day in 
the * Transcript.' Did you see Miss Fuller's in the 
* Daily ' ? It is thought very well of. 

"At home it is very pleasant, nor are we much an- 
noyed even by the racket of cleaning, except as we 
descend stairs and behold the frippery mass of boxes, 
chairs, and statues that appears in every corner of the 
entries. Cook and his broth-spoiling minions we found 
had taken down the busts, and disparted the pedestals. 
However, with all care I have made them replace 
them, and have seen nothing broken yet, though of 
course there will be basketfuls of fragments." 

The year 1839 brought many changes. Mr. Na- 
than Appleton was married for the second time ; in 



Wandering Years. 241 

1840 Mary Appleton was married to Mr. Mackintosh, 
and went soon after to live in England, where her 
brother and sister visited her at — 

" St. Catharine's, May i8, 1841. 

" Dear Father : . . . I have just returned from a 
delightful walk through the Zoological Gardens, almost 
the first rural walk I have had as yet in England. 
Nothing can be lovelier than they are just now, such a 
profusion of blossoming bushes and trees ! Our house 
is more like an angle in one of the Oxford colleges 
than anything else, with a Gothic fountain in the 
court, an embayed window overhanging the turfy 
square, and ivy creeping up to the sill; over the way the 
umber turrets of the modern-antique dwelling of the 
head of St. Catharine's. Altogether our position is one 
of the pleasantest in London. 

" Tell Mr. Prescott that we were in charming 
rooms, quiet and sunny, with laburnums waving at the 
window, in fifteen days after quitting East Boston, 
without anxiety or fatigue, and do make him feel that 
he ought to have come, as we wanted him to. 

"... The more I see of the play of the English 
machine, the more I see the imperfection of our 
boasted one — public opinion. I find nothing here 
resembling the *it is thought' of America. Individ- 
ual morality and harmonious complexity of interests 
21 



242 Thomas G. Applet on. 

make the reins draw evenly. Everything here is 
under-'^XdXtd. ; every man colors the fact by his person- 
ality, and none but the liojis fall into that extrava- 
gance which, with us, is the effort to state still stronger 
what is already stated too strongly. 

"... There has been a sale of pictures, first-rates, 
the Lucca Gallery ; I came near bringing you in a bill 
for one, they were so sacrificed. If I had bought a 
dozen, I could have sold them at home for double the 
money. Think of a half-length Titian for seventeen 
pounds, an exquisite Murillo for thirty pounds ! " 

It was at this sale that Mr. Appleton saw the 
** Virgin of the Candelabra " knocked off at a low 
price — the picture which, lately on exhibition at the 
museum in New York, was offered at a much larger 
sum. 

Mr. Appleton could not resist a visit to Paris. 

**RuE DE LA Paix, June 18, 1841. 
" Though most of the fashionables have left town, 
it is cool and pleasant, and the evening stroll along 
the Boulevards, after all, is prettier than any of the 
street-scenes in winter. Last night we were at the 
first representation of a new ballet, which is as pretty 
as even the ' Sylphide '; and, now that the haut ton has 
left the town, it is amusing to witness the noisy enthusi- 
asm of the second class. 



Wandering Years, 243 

" Tivoli is no more ; we drove there the other 
evening, and paid a franc, only to see what a scene of 
desolation it has become. 'On va percer des rues, 
mon cher monsieur,' told the story of the monster 
Improvement devouring these pretty suburbs. 

" We have tried the Versailles Railroad. One goes 
in a half-hour, and every half-hour. All the engines 
are Scotch-built, with French names. We went on 
Sunday, and the train was full. Nothing can be more 
splendid nor more tiresome than the miles of gallery 
at Versailles." 

•' Paris, July i, 1841. 

"... I have been about seeing old acquaintances. 
De Poilly is away, but his servant was very glad to see 
me, and assured me that Boston^ my dog, is now the 
hope of the kennel, for Dash and Love are dead or 
lost, and mine reigns supreme. He is related as won- 
derful for sagacity and beauty ; draws a boat full of 
people after him by a rope, etc." 

This was the dog which embarked with the family 
in 1835. 

"/«6' 15, 1 841. 
"... My friend the baron is gone with all his 
grandchildren to Dieppe, but I saw him plentifully be- 
fore he went. We dined at the Cafe de Paris, and 
talked over old times. . . . Healy is an excellent fel- 



244 Thomas G. Applet on. 

low, and, if he perseveres, will come back to us some 
day with the best reputation for portraits of any- 
American of his time." 

" Long's Hotel, London, July 30, 1841. 
" Dear Father : I am going immediately to the 
city to take our places for the ist of October. I saw 
Macready last night in * Money,' which you liked so 
much. I cried a good deal ; but still, how inferior it 
all was to an inferior French play with trashy virtuous 
sentiments and conventional French gestures ! " 

" TuNBRiDGE Wells, August 15, 1841. 
*' We are all comfortably housed in a rural yet ele- 
gant town, once a sort of rival of Bath — Tunbridge 
Wells. The town is high, and the air blows over 
woods and healthy downs, until it is full of sweetness 
and freshness. We found the place so much to our 
liking, while trying it for a day or two, at the Mount 
Ephraim Hotel, that we descended the hill, and took 
lodgings for a week in a snug half -house, half-cottage, 
that rejoices to be called No. 2 Clarence Terrace. 
We sally forth with our sketch-books, about eleven, 
and find cottages in abundance to adorn our sheets ; 
we have had the luck to discover two walks composed 
of woods and brooks, and heights of land overlooking 
a broken and most generous country. 



1 



Wandering Years. 245 

" All Kent, that we have seen, is lovely, fertile, and 
most beautifully undulating, giving at times startling 
overlookings of the richest fields. I have taken out 
an armful of books from the library, and among others 
we have read Miss Burney's * Camilla,* which young 
lady met once many old-fashioned adventures in these 
very streets that now look so provokingly unadvent- 
uresome. If you wish to get a notion of the place, 
turn to the last volume of that novel. 

" We know nobody, and, if we should stay till we 
occupied the pretty grave-yard, probably should know 
no one. I brought no dress-coat, aware that the Wells 
had had their day, and that now no spangled Camilla 
sighed and loved in the semicircular lobbies of the 
Parade. We all drink the water, for form. It is not 
bad, and probably also not good — a very weak Sara- 
toga species. Aged widows and harmless old women 
of both sexes seem to be the natural inhabitants of 
the place." 

Mr. Appleton, with his sister Fanny, returned home 
in October, 1841 ; but he was soon again upon the 
other side of the Atlantic, where he was always multi- 
plying the number of his friends. The residence in 
England of Mrs. Mackintosh was a strong attraction, 
and other ties drew him thither, although, when he 
was away, the attraction of home was equally power- 
ful, so that his absences were seldom long. He was a 



246 Thomas G. Applet on. 

good sailor, and the voyage was nothing to him — 
indeed a pleasure, even in the days of long packet- 
passages. He could extract something from all char- 
acters — interest from the agreeable, amusement from 
the dull ; with sketch-book and blotting-book he was 
always busy — the great secret of comfort at sea. 

Mr. Appleton went into lodgings in London, and 
it was not until after the season that he crossed to the 
Continent. He writes from Bordeaux : 

''August 24, 1843. 

" Dear Father : . . . I have not written you be- 
fore in France. Spain is too restless for comfortable 
traveling, but I thought I would just take a look at the 
Pyrenees, and walk a bit on the hills. I found nobody 
in Paris ; was only a week there. I brought over the 
Sedgwicks. It is wonderful what a deal of history 
Mrs. Theodore knows. She has more to say of Philip 
Augustus than of Louis Philippe, and the Fronde is 
about as low down as she goes with interest. The 
Baron de Poilly was in town, and very glad to see me. 
He is desirous that I should visit him on my return 
from the south, as the duchess and a pleasant party 
are at Folembray. 

"I went from Havre to Nantes all the way by 
steam, which shows how considerable, even in France, 
the changes are in travel. A brother of the Vendeean 



Wandering Years. 247 

hero, M. La Rochejaquelin, owns a line of steamers 
on the Loire, one of which I came in. They are all of 
iron, the size of a canal-boat, and are waggishly called 
les Inexplosibles. On the safety-pipe is written, in large 
white letters, systlme de VinexplosibiliU. We constantly 
scraped over the river's sandy bed, and twice stuck fast ; 
had to all leave the boat and wait till she was jostled 
out of the sand. ... At Tours I saw Plessis-les-Tours, 
the den of Louis XI, so capitally described in ' Quen- 
tin Durward.' It is nearly destroyed, but what remains 
is very interesting, showing how gangrened the clever 
king was, mind and body, to live in such a way. He 
kept his friends round him, boxed up in dungeons, 
ready for use, I suppose. I saw where Cardinal Baluc 
languished for years in a cage. It was Louis who in- 
vented them, unless it were Bajazet." 

Many years later Mr. Appleton saw this "den of 
Louis XI," and the monarch himself, reproduced by 
Irving, with great enjoyment. In October, 1843, Mr. 
Appleton established himself in Rue Richelieu, at 
Paris. He writes : 

" I am snug and comfortable here. My nearest 
neighbor, in the Hotel de Paris, whose deity is the 
mercurial Miss Michel, the adored of her guests under 
twenty, and smiling only upon some twelve spaniels 
'of each degree of littleness and tendency to bark.' I 



248 Thomas G, Apple ton. 

find I began above about a neighbor, seeking in vain 
for a verb. She is Lady Staples, of Marion Square, 
Dublin. Her suite consists of Sir T. Staples, Dr. 
Banks, and a hairy King Charles, the torture and envy 
of Miss Michel, its toes being fringed at least an inch 
and a half beyond its nails. We dine together at the 
table d'hdte J she comes in to see my sketches, and I 
hold Fanny^ the dog, in my lap and hear Lady S. play 
the concertina, a new instrument, like an organ, while 
Sir Thomas draws gut across an enormous violoncello. 
My friend par Eminence js a youth of nineteen, who 
asks me daily, * Dites-moi, m'aimez-vous beaucoup ? * 
He is a Hungarian count, officer in the Austrian serv- 
ice, who bought, for I don't know how many thousand 
coins, the duplicate of the Correggio * Magdalen,' at 
Dresden. He is fiery and Teutonic, talks English like 
a vague approach to hog-Latin, and takes me for a 
mentor. . . . But I have not mentioned my noblest 
acquaintances ; — Mrs. Erskine, whose dewy eye speaks 
pity and pardon for all human ills and vices, whose 
very smile is an absolution 'un vrai ange,' as Leduc 
calls her, and the compact-browed Miss Stirling, whose 
keen mind looks Mystery in the face. They have with 
them a refugee Sardinian to complete the group — 
Gratitude waiting upon Aspiration and Faith. One 
day they put me in their carriage and bade me preach 
Soul, as taught by magnetism. I never enjoyed so 



Wandering Years. 249 

much unlocking as then. I talked two hours, finding 
full sympathy, the strong Lady E. weeping when I told 
her of the material proofs of re-existence, from the 
pure individual being, of powers undeveloped here." 

It was at this time that Mr. Appleton made a visit 
of inspection to the haunts of robbers, which he was 
fond of telling about in after-years. He described it, 
in a letter to his father, just after it had happened : 

'• Paris, December 30, 1843. 
"... There is a strange book you must have 
heard of, called * Les Mysteres de Paris.' Wishing 
to judge if its fearful pictures of crime were true, 
with Bruce (the son of Lady Elgin) and Ledru, I vis- 
ited, protected by two valiant guides, all the worst 
haunts of the robbers, the other night. We were 
armed ; and in one huge hot cabaret were three hun- 
dred of the worst villains of Paris drinking and howl- 
ing. We were halloed at, insulted, and, but for much 
coolness, might have been roughly used. Our guides 
said they would make nothing of falling upon us and 
stabbing us. The police, every quarter of an hour or 
so, descend into this hell and carry off a victim. We 
were thought to be policemen in disguise till two rob- 
bers recognized Ledru, who is called, in the prisons, 
* Le Petit Mirabeau.' I never shall forget the faces we 
saw there. We then visited the day-time haunt of the 



250 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

thieves, where they lie perdus from the police. It was 
then nearly empty. We went to all the vile places our 
guides knew of, and I had the satisfaction of drinking 
with some vagabonds and passing off for one of them, 
calling myself a commis-voyageury with a long story, 
which seemed to pass perfectly. All that you will read 
in the * Mysteres de Paris ' I can vouch to be under 
the truth. The spectacle was the most eloquent moral 
lesson. It gives one matter for thought for a lifetime. 
I saw it but for one night, and it seemed to me a 
revelation from the devil ; what must it be to the poor 
creatures not quite hardened, to whom it is all they 
see every day, and the same ! No wonder that at 
length their faces gain an expression which, to call 
beastly, is to insult the brutes." 

Fanny Appleton was married to Mr. Longfellow in 
1843. The pleasure the new connection brought to 
her brother is shown in a letter addressed to Mr. 
Nathan Appleton in Washington, in May, 1844 : 

" Dear Father : Here I am at last, safe and 
sound, though I find some fears have been had for our 
safety, and with reason, for we were besieged during a 
day and night with floating ice, and hung after that 
in a fog, at the mouth of the harbor of Halifax, for as 
long. 

" I am, half in your house in Boston, and half with 



Wandering Years, 251 

Longfellow in Cambridge, amply repaid for coming 
home, by finding dear Fanny so poetically and happily 
situated. Their house is charming, and I really lose 
my way in the many turnings. They both give me the 
sacred welcome of friend and brother, so dear in this 
world of strangers. . . . 

" I tried to hear the Whigs last night, at Faneuil 
Hall, but could not get in for the crowd. We had a 
dance at the Inglises, where many friends shook warm 
hands with me. I really think people like one better 
for going away. To-day I dine at the Ticknor's, and 
take your place (how poorly !) at your club." 



CHAPTER XIV. 

WANDERING YEARS. 
II.— 1345. 

Mr. Appleton was now thirty-two years old. He 
was fully able to understand his own nature and its 
capacities. The indulgence of his taste for travel, 
during ten years and more, instead of satisfying him, 
had proved, to himself at least, that he was not fitted | 

for the sedentary, monotonous life of a profession 
at home. The pursuit of the law, which he had ac- 
cepted at first in accordance with the wishes of his 
father, he learned to find as unsuited to him as he was 
to it. Proud and sensitive, he carried the conviction 
to an exaggerated length, that he had nothing of the 
kind of talent then needful in America for what was 
there called success. He felt, as he expressed it, 
" humbled and despicable before men who could build 
towns, pour whole villages into factories, and under- 
mine the everlasting hills." Deeply and sincerely as 
he admired his father's qualities of character, he had 
no pretensions to become, like him, a leader of public 



Wandering Years, 253 

opinion, nor did he find within himself the dogged 
perseverance required for a life-long devotion to some 
practical business. "And yet," he writes at this time 
to his father, " I can not see that a man, improving his 
character and mind, living modestly on a moderate 
income, is wholly despicable. If he tries to do good 
and to find the truth and speak it, I can not see that 
he is inferior to a man who merely toils, nobly to be 
sure, but still without leaving himself time for much 
of these. . . . My ambition is my own, arid it is as 
strong as any man's, but it has not triumphs which the 
world can appreciate or behold. It may not be a 
lofty or very useful one, but it is to the best of my 
abilities." 

Such a life as he was thus imagining for himself 
was little understood, in 1844, in Boston. He was 
conscious that he was regarded as a mere idler ; and 
that his enthusiasms, poetical and artistic, were 
wholly unappreciated. Most of all, he feared to for- 
feit the good opinion of his father, whom he intense- 
ly loved. These thoughts and tendencies, pulling in 
opposite directions, had made his early manhood full 
of unrest. It was now that he came to a full under- 
standing, not only with himself, but with that kind, 
generous father, who, although doubtless he was dis- 
appointed that his son did not accept a career of use- 
fulness and distinction, in some direction allied to his 
22 



254 Thomas G. Applet on. 

own, never wavered in the affection and indulgence 
he had always borne for him. 

Thus relinquishing definitely all pretense of office 
or even studies at home, Thomas sprang away to his 
friends in Europe, among whom he found or fancied 
himself free from the painful sense of being misunder- 
stood, which oppressed him at home. 

Yet it should be remembered that, from the first, 
Mr. Appleton had a strong affection for Boston, and 
that after short absences he returned to it always with 
pleasure. As he grew older, and his thirst for travel 
abated, he was content to settle down in his native 
place. The last twenty years of his life, with few 
exceptions, were passed in sight of the gilded dome 
of the State-House. 

He writes to his father, then in Pittsfield, from — 

" Boston, July i8, 1844. 
" I am oif to-morrow. There is every appearance 
that we shall not have many passengers. I am very 
sad at leaving Fanny, and all my friends, but that is 
an inevitable feeling when one quits those one so 
much loves. You shall know, as soon as I have made 
definite my plans, what these are. At all events, I am 
determined to be as happy as a poor mortal can who 
is not in active business. . . . Receive my embraces, 
and never cease to love the economical prodigal, 
"Your affectionate son, . T. G. A." 



Wander mg Years, 255 

This jesting fashion of speaking only covered a 
deeper and more earnest state of feeling, which found 
expression in a later letter. He writes : 

" If an ardent wish to do good and be of some use 
indicates anything, I feel that some day I shall be 
better understood and loved for other reasons than at 
present. ... I do not suppose I should, or shall, ever 
do much very American ; it is too late to achieve 
strict habits of business and method ; but I shall be 
able to handle my talents so as to satisfy a little the 
natural demands of society upon me." 

With some friends, Mr. Appleton passed a part 
of the summer in Derbyshire, in a charming little 
cottage, "looking," he writes, "from some points not 
larger than one of our Nahant cottages. The Howes 
(Dr. S. G. and Mrs. Julia Ward Howe) and the Sidney 
Brookses all are here, and the rest of our party are 
very agreeable people — among others, Hallam, the 
historian. Lady Sitwell, and Mr. Smith Wright, neigh- 
bors of the Nightingales*. We breakfast at half-past 
nine, with, among other things, some Derbyshire 
cakes, tough and gritty; lunch at two, in a very 
moderate way ; and dine at half-past six. It is a 
quiet but very charming life we lead, with fine 
mountain-walks, and horses for those who like them. 
The Nightingales are as delightful as ever. Miss 
Florence and Mrs. Brooks are very excellent friends, 



256 Thomas G, Applet on, 

chattering like sparrows together, while Partley and 
Lady Sitwell are dabbling over their water-color 
drawings. The country hereabout is very like our 
Berkshire — the same woody amphitheatres, the rush- 
ing water, and the dry roads." 

He adds, referring to a standing joke : " I do not 
feel so sure of marrying an Englishwoman as I did, 
though they are delightful ; at least, I have asked none 
yet." 

'■'■August 31, 1844. 

"Since I wrote, I have been a week with Lady 
Sitwell and her husband, Mr. Smith Wright, not far 
from here. The house is a model of taste. Lady S. 
is famous for her flowers. Her conservatory is superb, 
and her white yuccas unrivaled. Yesterday she drove 
me to Sir George Beaumont's, the nephew of the 
famous art-patron. He received us at his superb 
porch, and took us over the fine house, a miracle of 
taste, as was everything of his uncle's ; and at length 
into a conservatory-like gallery he had built to hold 
the over-abounding pictures. Here were all the first 
good things of Wilkie, Leslie, etc., which Sir George 
bought to encourage these young artists ; but his own 
sketches were as interesting as any, and as good. 
Allston's picture is in a lovely gray stone church close 
to the house, a sort of guardian angel to the place. It 
is the one he often spoke to me about. An angel in 



Wandering Years. 257 

white, with sky-blue scarf fluttering, points, while 
standing on the steps, to the prison-door, with a ra- 
diant hand, while Peter lifts a majestic face, heavy 
with sleep, upon the angel, from between his bent and 
drowsy guards. There is a huge patine of moonlight 
breaking through the grates of the prison above. We 
thought the angel a trifle too robust for air ; but who 
can fitly imagine these dear brothers of ours ? The 
figures are life-size, and the picture one of Allston's 
fine ones, though not equal to the 'Jeremiah,* * Miriam,' 
or ' Belshazzar.* " 

This picture, "The Angel releasing Saint Peter 
from Prison," was painted by Allston for Sir George 
Beaumont, and placed by him in the church at Ashby 
de la Zouche, here mentioned. Mr. Appleton's admi- 
ration for the picture had for a result its coming to 
this country ; for Dr. R. W. Hooper was led, by his 
friend's praise of it, to buy it in 1859, from the nephew 
of Sir George. It was exhibited at the Boston Athe- 
naeum, and afterward at the Museum of Fine Arts, 
.and a few years ago was presented by Dr. Hooper to 
the new State Lunatic Hospital at Worcester, where 
it now hangs, in the great hall, in an excellent light, 
and gives great satisfaction to the patients. 

The autumn and winter were passed in Rome, 
which Mr. Appleton found to have lost none of its 



258 Thomas G. Appleton. 

charms since his visit ten years before. His friends 
the Perkinses made his stay especially pleasant. Their 
Christmas dinner is described with great enthusiasm. 
The days were passed in drawing from the life, paint- 
ing la Grazia, a model then much in demand, and in 
visiting the studios. In the spring of 1845, i^ com- 
pany with William M. Hunt, his mother, sister, and 
brother, Mr. Appleton w^ent to Greece and Constanti- 
nople. The party was delightfully congenial. William 
Hunt was, about that time, a pupil of Pradier, and 
"in a fair way," as Mr., Appleton expresses it, " to be- 
come a sculptor." 

They sailed from Ancona early in April, had a few 
hours at Corfu, and a day at Corinth, on their way to 
Athens ; there they spent several days visiting all there 
was to be seen of interest, going to the Piraeus and to 
Marathon. There is a sketch-book amply filled with 
rapid water-color impressions of these places. 

On their way to Constantinople, they had a day at 
Smyrna, and a few hours at Gallipoli ; they stayed 
some time in the Eastern Capital, and then returned 
to England by the way of Trieste, etc. 

"Roma, March 28, 1845. 
'* My Dear Father : At length I am off for 
Greece — a rather rapid visit, as I dread the hot 
weather — and a run to Constantinople. Thence I am 



Wandering Years. 259 

not very decided ; perhaps up the Danube, perhaps 
back by steam to Marseilles and the west of Spain, 
and then home. I shall thus ^ave exhausted all there 
is of the wild Indian in me, and shall stay at home 
like a good boy. 

" I have lingered and lingered in Rome, deferring 
my Eastern trip, snared by the charms of this old 
artistic town, and the graces of my friends the Cleve- 
lands, etc. My winter has been monotonous, but 
studious. I shall have the company of a pleasant 
family from Ancona to Corfu, if not farther — the 
Hunts, of Brattleboro, whom you know." 

A long letter to his sister calls upon her for the sym- 
pathy he is sure of. 

•* Athena, April 17, 1845. 

**My dear Fanny: It will be a satisfaction to 
you to get a letter from me dated Athens, and I assure 
you it is the greatest satisfaction to me to find myself 
here. It is only for a few days, for it is getting warm, 
and on the 20th I shall steam for Constantinople. The 
Hunt party have decided to go too, so I shall not want 
for acquaintances on the way. 

" I left Ancona in the Austrian steamer of the 4th, 
and came hither, touching at Corfu, and getting a 
hurried visit to Corinth. We have now been here 
about a week, which has been one of the most memo- 
rable of my life. It is such a strange and perpetual 



26o Thomas G, Apple ton. 

pleasure to have the names of Theseus, the Academy, 
Phidias, and the rest daily in our mouths, and when- 
ever we doubt if all be not a summer dream, to see 
from every point the Parthenon flaming like a vast 
altar above our heads. What a morning I passed 
there yesterday ! One gets up here by sunrise, and 
the pure, elastic air is something to intoxicate one, 
if the Parthenon were not enough alone. We all 
sketched ; I in the lovely little Temple of Victory, 
without wings — a figure of a victory binding its san- 
dals, very likely from the chisel of Phidias ; what a 
delight to find myself sketching that there ! Then I 
drew in water-colors an interesting monument on 
the hill opposite. At ten we descended and lunched, 
and at eleven all set off, some in one of the wild-driv- 
ing carriages of the place, and the rest on horses, for 
Eleusis, a pretty drive of two hours. We passed the 
Academy and the plain beyond, and when we drove 
beside the sparkling sea, blue as the eyes of Minerva, 
we were wild with delight. At DajDhne we rambled 
over a quaint ruined convent, with a head of our 
Saviour in mosaic, in Byzantine fashion, so quaint and 
fierce as to seem almost a robber. At length we 
reached Eleusis, where we found a party of English 
officers pottering over an incomprehensible monu- 
ment, once a sort of huge medallion, with a head in 
alto-rilievOf but now destroyed ; we rambled about, 



Wandering' Years, 261 



"i* 



looking at the few remains of that famous and myste- 
rious city, sketching many little girls in their pretty 
costume. Here each damsel carries her dowry in 
solid coin on her head, and feels the weight of riches 
from her earliest years. We saw a girl of eleven, very 
pretty, on the point of being married, with plenty of 
gold mingled with the silver coins. This coiffure 
looks precisely like an old helmet, having a band of 
coins to hold it on, passing under the chin like the 
band of the helmet. The evening I spent at Mr. Hill's. 
" This little sketch of a day gives you an idea how 
we spend our time. The weather is delicious, and the 
sunsets — bathing all the town in gold, even making the 
palace of Otho endurable, while behind Hymettus is 
the glow of violet — are the finest in the world. Dr. 
Howe and others gave me letters, and I have more 
friends here than time to see them in. To-morrow I 
dine with Sir Edmund Lyons, and breakfast with the 
Hills, who are the best people in the world. There is 
no one in Athens more respected than he, and no 
one who does more good. They are both friendly 
and merry, enjoying life as very few missionaries do, 
and every day more and more beloved of all. Every 
one sings their praises, and indeed when one witnesses 
the things they have done at their school, the five 
hundred children so orderly, so obedient, and so 
clever, it is with pride that they are of our country 



262 Thomas G. Applet on, 

that one sees it all. The school is on the Lancastrian 
plan, and the quick demonstrations of the scholars, by 
gesture and voice, altogether show the most perfect 
training. I went to hear Mr. Hill preach on Sunday 
in an ugly little Gothic church, like one of our dread- 
ful efforts at home ; but it is pretty within, and some 
of the scholars who sing have exquisite voices. 

" But what shall I tell you of the ruins here ? 
Nothing, for one can say nothing I They must be felt, 
and that is all that can be done. We have been to 
Marathon, over the glorious mountain-passes, and over 
the worst roads, where my horse, and the guide's, 
pitched us headlong without harming us. I have wan- 
dered in the Academy, and recalled the Plato we read 
in the cave at Newport. I have been on the Bema 
where Demosthenes tamed the * fierce democratic,' and 
which is as fresh as then ; on Lycabettus, to see be- 
yond the town -^gina, and the gulf leaping to the sun ; 
every step we take is over the memory of some great 
man. To-day I go to Pentelicus, far less interesting 
than before the barbarians came as gunpowder-blasts 
to destroy the neat excavations of the days of Phidias. 
We shall return home by a young moon, which here 
is indeed lovely. 

"Dr. Howe is everywhere here remembered. I 
have shaken hands with friends of his, whose eyes 
sparkled when they spoke of him." 



Wandering Years, 263 

"Stamboul, Pera, April it, 1845. 

" My dear Father : Fanny was, indeed, right 
when she said, in one of her late letters, * Fail not to 
pass that Golden Horn, which shall unlock more en- 
chantment than ever did Orlando's.' Tell her the old 
enchantment still lingers about these shores, that fairy- 
land begins with the blue entrance to the Dardanelles 
— but let me not rave in general. 

" Two days have I been here, two days of Arabian 
Nights' entertainments. Even Pera, dirty Pera, favors 
us, for the season is so dry we walk without filth to the 
scenes of the various tales of Scheherezade. Our good 
French captain halted his boat through the night, be- 
fore we arrived, that we might have a sunrise impres- 
sion for the first. Good fellow ! he is an artist, and 
sympathizes with those who love the beautiful. We 
were all up bright and early, you may be sure ; and, 
shining afar off, with wavering lights glancing here 
and there over the mighty sweep of shores, slowly 
rose Stamboul. 

" We came so slowly, we drank in every slight 
change of this unrivaled panorama. A writer for the 
London * Times,' who was with us, told me, though 
often here, he never saw the city show so fine. We 
swept by the seven towers, Galata opening over our 
bow, with fringes of dark red from the Judas-tree re- 
lieving the young green of the other foliage. Like 



264 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

candlesticks of some heavenly Jerusalem, burned in 
the early air the minarets, while the white domes of 
the mosques, suspended among the trees, reminded 
me of Aladdin's famous roc's ^^g^ which none but a 
magician could furnish. Seraglio Point we lingeringly 
rounded, wondering at the latticed kiosks, the delicate 
trees fresh with their earliest green, the cypressed- 
walks of the garden, where we fancied sultanas, lights 
of the harem, were culling flowers, with night's dia- 
monds still upon them. The Golden Horn then, like 
a cornucopia, poured _its treasures at our feet, and, 
amid ships and steamers, and thousands of caiques, we 
dropped our anchor. 

"We were soon, after no bother of passports, or 
nonsense about baggage, snug in Madame Giusep- 
pina's lodging-house at the top of Pera, looking down 
into a Turkish burial-ground, with tombstones like 
petrified Turks — scarce stiller or more sedate than the 
living ones. 

" We are in great luck. We at once took caiques 
for a tour down the Bosporus, to see the Sultan go 
to mosque. No sooner had we arrived than, amid 
prancing Arabs and lines of Europeanized soldiery, 
the Sultan stumbled along, almost supported by two 
officers, to his phaeton, rather gay with gold, and, after 
taking one long, sleepy look at us, he drove off with a 
grand chatter of attendants. 



Wandering Years. 265 

"We there saw, also, the famous Riza Pasha, the 
real head of the government, whose portrait Mr. Kel- 
logg, a clever American artist, is now taking. We 
ascended the tower of the Genoese, to get a map-view 
of the town. While taking a pipe and coffee in that 
airy caf/ we looked over sea and town, lingering at 
every window, and lapped in a true Turkish Elysium. 
After this we visited the Armenian and Greek church- 
es near us. It was their Good-Friday, and we wit- 
nessed very curious ceremonies, and saw gorgeous 
church-costumes. It is our luck, after having it at 
Rome, to find Easter everywhere. Reckoning by the 
old style, the Greeks gave it to us, and now the good 
people of Constantinople — like strawberries following 
one as one goes north in spring. 

" But our crowning treat was yesterday. As luck 

would have it, yesterday was the betrothal of the last 

sister of the Sultan to Mahomet Ali Pasha, and, with 

all the world, we went to see the presents carried by. 

During a long detention, our time was spent (besides 

long chats with excellent Mr. Carr, our minister, and 

Brown, his dragoman) in trying all the sweetmeats, 

lemonade, etc., and peeping into all the droll arabaSy 

where, with faces hid in their yashmaks^ were all the 

wives of the various pashas, as well as those of the 

bourgeoisie. Little Mussulmen trotted about on ponies 

with running servants at their side, and in the gayest 
23 



266 Thomas G. Appleton. 

dresses. Every wall and balcony glowed like a tulip- 
bed. Such colors and such silence ! Black eyes alone 
spoke through their narrow door in the yashmak. We 
perched ourselves on a pile of boards, where we were 
long examined by the Sultan himself, from the artillery 
magazine near by ; soon his cawass came and told us 
to go down lower — we were, probably, cutting too 
much of a figure. 

" Not till after two o'clock did the procession 
come, to the clang of Turkish music. After servants 
to clear the wa.y, supported on the shoulders of men 
in double file, came boxes of jewels, dresses, etc., and 
of sweetmeats, a hundred or more trays, covered and 
bound up in cone-like shapes, with vari-colored gauzes. 
Behind came the rest of the paraphernalia, splendid, 
but not so rich, they say, as when the other sister was 
married. 

" I shall, probably, send home a parcel through 
Smyrna, as no one can resist the thousand pretty 
things here. Our room is a litter of Damascus blades, 
silk, embroidery, etc., etc., all dear but divine. I may 
return by way of Trieste, or to England direct, by 
steam, so avoiding quarantine." 

Mr. Appleton writes from England on July 2, 1845 : 

" Dear Father : This is the last letter I shall 
send you from this side of the water, if I succeed in 



Wandering Years. 267 

getting off, as I hope, by the middle of the month. 
You sent me an invitation to spend August with you 
in Pittsfield a long time ago ; I have been acting on it 
ever since ; I have come night and day to Paris, and 
should by this time have been in America, but for the 
plans of others. I shall soon be there." 

This promise was fulfilled, and August found him 
in America, with his father. He passed a part of the 
autumn at Newport, of which he writes : " I find New- 
port as pleasant as in the olden time, though widely 
different. It swarms now with fashionable people, 
and the study of my fair countrywomen has been to 
me a very pleasing occupation since my arrival here. 
If you have not been to Newport since we were in the 
Lawrence House, you would be amazed to find so 
many huge caravansaries, so many new cottages, and 
so much new company." 

The original manuscript remains of this poem, writ- 
ten on the steamer : 

ALBANIA. 

Beneath Chimari's peaks of snow 

We sweep with flying keel. 
The murmuring wave rolls blue below. 

Above the rare clouds steal ; 
With faces turned toward the land, 

We watch the strengthening lines. 
Where o'er our tossing bow expand 

Albania's far confines. 



268 Tho7nas G, Applet on. 

No tree, no shrub, relieves the dark 

And barren precipice ; 
No perfume greets our hurrying bark, 

From mountain-peaks of ice. 
To Fancy's eye, only, the goat 

May tread those fierce defiles. 
The circling eagle's shadow float 

Along those splintered piles. 

No streamlet from the fissured rock 

Drops with its murmuring sheet 
Of dew, to nurse the fading flock 

Of wild flowers at its feet. i 

Stern cliffs, all thirsty for the rain, J 

•Implore the passing cloud. 
Which droops with heavy fringe in rain. 

While thunders mock aloud. ^ 

Oh ! well in those tremendous vales 

Must echoing thunders speak. 
With antique cries awake the gales, 

And man the mountain-peak. 
With grisly shapes, which throng to hear 

Those martial sounds again. 
Gleams fast and far the Dorian spear. 

The dead desert the plain ! 

The men of old, the immortal dead. 

Are now again alive ; 
The phalanx musters overhead, 

Where airy armies strive ; 
The watch-word, and again the sweet 

Call of the Spartan flute 
Above in grand confusion meet. 

Where late all heaven was mute. 



Wandering Years. 269 

Better such dream, than where the shore 

Swarms with its living dead ; 
Men on whose sordid souls no more 

Fame's fiery light is shed. 
We listen where, 'mid thunder rolls. 

Old Freedom's echoed cry. 
Nor turn to look where meaner souls 

Pollute that holy sky. 



CHAPTER XV. 

WANDERING YEARS. 
III.— 1846-1854. 

It would be difficult to follow Mr. Appleton at this 
period, in his shuttlecock passages across the Atlantic. 
Space forbids more than slight gleanings from the 
sheaf of letters at hand, written with a full heart, and 
overflowing with matter, to his father, commenting 
freely upon men and nature. 

In 1846 he spent some time at Malvern, whence 
he writes : 

" I board in a genial old house with some Chelten- 
ham friends. It is called the Abbey, and is hundreds 
of years old, with corridors, carved panels, diamond 
lattices, and old matters. The guests consist of frouzy 
old matrons, pursy East-Indians, etc. The landlady 
is as old and as odd as her house, and the servants are 
all originals. 

** At tea, each of us has a separate tray, and makes 
his or her own tea. It is very droll, and looks like 



Wandering Y^ears. 271 

four-and-twenty housekeepers all in a row. I mean to 
hold on to the Abbey, and get all the oddities of the 
place." 

The winter of 1847-48 was passed in Paris ; and 
again, after a summer at home, a journey to Niagara 
and Montreal, with an English friend, Mrs. Wedgwood, 
Mr. Appleton found himself in Europe. The spring 
of 1848, in Paris, was an exciting time. After the fall 
of Louis Philippe, *he provisional government found 
itself beset by immense difficulties. The moderate 
members, Lamartine, Garnier-Pages, and others, were 
opposed by the party of Ledru-Rollin and Louis 
Blanc, who held extravagant socialist or communist 
opinions. The Assembly met on the 5th of May, 
pretty evenly balanced between the two antagonistic 
parties. Mr. Appleton arrived in Paris just in time to 
see the opening of the Assembly. A few days after- 
ward he was present at a stormy meeting in the new 
Chamber of Deputies, when its halls were invaded by 
a mob. The excitement of that occasion was quelled 
for the time. It was not until June that the struggle 
took place in which the Archbishop of Paris lost his 
life, when General Cavaignac, nominated as dictator, 
restored order after six days of anarchy. On the 
loth of December, 1848, Louis Napoleon was elected 
President. 



272 Thomas G, Appleton, 

On the loth of May, 1848, Mr. Appleton writes : 

" I was yesterday at Lady Elgin's, where there was 
no talk but of the state of affairs. Some predicted 
utter ruin, some had hope ; all told stories of the 
wreck of their friends' fortunes. The servant an- 
nounced Monsieur Rochefoucault. The young man 
came in laughing, saying that two months ago he was 
a duke ! Like every Frenchman, he has no impreca- 
tions against the government, but hopes for the best. 
Poor Madame Baudraud, who is half ruined (her 
husband educated the Count of Paris), received me 
sadly but with pleasure. I find Paris too sad a place 
to be in very long ; it wears upon one, and, though I 
hope to see it somewhat brighter, it may darken." 

In the autumn of 1848 Mr. Appleton was at home. 
He made a brief trip to the West Indies, to escort 
Mrs. Mackintosh, who had been visiting her New 
England friends, back to St. Kitt's, where her husband 
was at that time governor. Much as Thomas was 
charmed with the beauty of the islands, "the mos- 
quitoes and lizards, and the perpetual sauce which the 
sun serves up," were too much for him ; he was in New 
York, and off to London, before the end of the year. 

" England," he writes, " is staggering along under 
her many difficulties, trying to keep up heart, and yet 
feeling that in all probability she has seen her best 



Wandering Years. 2 73 

days. There is in the air a something not full of con- 
fidence for the future. The fact is, she is frost-struck 
at the root, at the top, and in her branches, at once. 
The people will run down into an Irish condition be- 
fore many years ; the nobility are made to feel poor 
by the corn-laws, and the colonies are restive. All 
this changes the tone of feeling very much from what 
it was two years since. But, if possible. Englishmen 
are finer fellows than ever. Never was there so much 
goodness, so active virtues — tolerance, patience, char- 
ity — in men and women as now ; never before such 
restlessness to hunt up ways and means of relief — 
such sacrifices of time and money. It does one good 
to see such things. ... I spent evening before last 
with Carlyle, who was very pleasant. Emerson had 
sent him Indian corn, ground and unground, and 
Carlyle was preaching it with apostolic fervor. The 
English millstones, he says, are too soft for it ; it 
comes back full of sand. Mrs. Carlyle produced 
some half-Indian bread of her making, which had a 
home flavor. Carlyle has been in Ireland, but brings 
back no plan of cure ; it seems beyond his grasp, or 
any man's. They say in the spring whole counties 
will take ship. Can we stand this indefinitely ? I 
wish they all could be dumped among the Mormons 
at once ; they might bump their Celtic cocoanuts 
against the Rocky Mountains, and so gain a spark or 



2 74 Thomas G. Appleton. 

two. . . . There is a new life of Swedenborg ; he 
says people are not well in the other world ! That 
is rather hard, and yet one can't imagine the identity 
of a confirmed invalid and a robust angel ! '* 

*' January 3, 1850. 

"Cobden is passing over the land like a prairie- 
fire. The mechanic is become master of England. 
He will gain more and more boldness, draw from 
America his doctrines, and before twenty years Eng- 
land will be a republic in all but the name. ... I 
shall try to write Jewett a * screed of my mind,' as 
Carlyle says, whom I made roar by telling him Prud- 
hon's last saying, ^ Je d/teste un Dieu qui ne s*explique 
as. 

The whole winter of 1849 and 1850 he passed in 
London with Mrs. Mackintosh, whose husband was 
still away at St. Kitt's. He greatly enjoyed her chil- 
dren, and was prime favorite with them, teaching 
them how to make molasses-candy, " which was a 
failure," he says ; " Mrs. Lawrence thinks we boiled 
it too long," and telling them wonderful stories. 
The other children across the Atlantic began to be 
powerful attractions toward home, for every letter 
contains messages, and many report boxes of toys 
exported for the benefit of the new brood of half- 
brothers and sisters who were coming upon the field. 



\ 



Wandering Years. 2 75 

and for Mrs. Longfellow's little ones. " Uncle Tom " 
was a wonderful and exciting relative ; now here, 
now there, always turning up with his hands full, 
and then disappearing without warning. 

*• Paris, March 6, 1850. 
" Never was Paris gayer. I hear on all sides that 
the profusion, the luxury, the living au jour le jour, 
have been something remarkable. This haste to en- 
joy was one of the features of the first French Revo- 
lution. I hear the upper classes reproached for a 
lack of real fusion with the lower, for no real effort 
to meet the present feeling, no interweaving of com- 
mon rights and common ideas which might bridge 
the gulf which, to the socialist, divides as between 
heaven and hell. I doubt not it is true. The French, 
sunk so low in their own esteem as to have been 
caught in this republican trap of 1848, accept a lower 
position, and have not manhood enough to overcome 
difficulties they did not seek. They have no fear for 
the present, but all talk of some possible bad bloody 
future. The Reds are kept at bay, but they stand 
firm on the grand ground of pillage ; no reason, no 
argument, reaches them. It is the finest dramatic ex- 
hibition of Satan and the Spirit of Good, in dialogue, 
which, I suppose, the world has seen for ages. It 
gives me a wholesome belief in the reality of the 



276 Thomas G. Appleton. 

devil ; and a disbelief in him, and such as he, I have 
ever considered as quite absurd. The spirit surely is 
of evil as of good, and why, in the spiritual world, 
there should be any barrier to prevent the develop- 
ment of spiritual evil, I never could see. After all, 
goodness is only a force ; so is evil ; one exists as 
well as the other. . . . 

" I was agreeably struck by the President. He is 
reckoned as ugly, and said to resemble me: but his 
phrenology I liked, and his mowed hair unveiled 
his organs — fine courage, good firmness, small self- 
esteem, fair frontal width, and reasoning powers, with 
large observing organs, and an eye strong, concen- 
trated, and thoughtful. These things are well, and 
people till lately have not done him justice. I saw 
him at a splendid show. The aunt of the President, 
the Grand Duchess of Baden, had that day arrived, 
and the diplomats and officers were in grande tenue. 
Many a fair shoulder was plowed with those small 
wings of the army-cherubim — epaulets. . . . 

* My poor Baron de Poilly is dead, of cholera, 
after typhus, last summer. He seemed to me as 
much a part of Paris as the Pont Neuf." 

The next year was passed in America. Mr. Na- 
than Appleton, whose health was failing, went abroad 
to try the benefit of a change of air for a troublesome 



Wandering Years. 277 

cough, and Thomas remained at home as the head of 
the family. 

He writes his father from Boston, in November, 
1850: 

*' The parties rattle round our ears like the 
leaves of autumn. It seems November is our party- 
month ; certainly the fever is on. Mrs. Paige's great 
ball comes off to-night, and will, no doubt, be splen- 
did. . . . We have a capital show of two Aztec nobles, 
half the size of Tom Thumb, and infinitely diverting. 
Theorists of a gloomy turn of mind predict from these 
the fate of the Beacon Street nobility. They seem 
very happy and lively, though pygmies, and certainly 
have a very distinguished physiognomy, very like the 
heads on Catherwood's monuments. . . . There is 
nothing I more envy you than seeing Mary's children. 
A year's romping with them has made me very fond 
of them. I have no fear that they should forget 
Uncle Tom." 

The summer was passed at Pittsfield and New- 
port ; at the latter he found " the same scheming 
mammas and polking daughters, the same roaring table 
d'hote, the same Bloomer bathing. Newport is in- 
deed unique, very amusing and instructive, abound- 
ing in fine studies of human nature and panoramas 

of mankind." 
24 



278 Thomas G, Apple ton, 

" Newport, August 5, 1852. 
"Yesterday the sea wrote in heroic measure. It 
had been composing a poem all night, and we went to 
the Spouting Horn to the hearing after breakfast. It 
was Shakespearean, and of the finest. A sustained 
march of noble rhymes, with every now and then a 
sounding Alexandrine tossed to our feet. Never have 
I seen the scene there so fine. It was like one of 
Napoleon's great battles, whole parks of artillery blaz- 
ing away at every reef. Sometimes the spray would 
stand for a second in. the air, one lovely tree of silver 
with all its shining leaves, and then melt as a frost-tree 
does on a window. At times the angles of the rocks 
would send off rockets of foam clear over our heads, 
and the big-backed waves growled afar on the beach. 
I think it the finest sight in nature, such power, such 
variety, such beauty. Our party went to the verge of 
the rock, and were remarking on the playfulness as 
well as the terror of the ocean, when the jolly sea 
shook a whole wave over us. We were drenched to 
the skin. Delicious ! " 

Mr. Nathan Appleton returned in September, much 
improved in health. In November, Thomas estab- 
lished himself in Paris for the winter. He was in fine 
bodily condition and great spirits, and the time passed 
delightfully, with American and French friends. He 



\ 



Wandering Years. 2 79 

was in comfortable gar(on quarters at the corner of 
the Rue de la Paix and the Boulevard. " Would you 
ever have thought," he writes, " that the ugly clump of 
buildings crowding the court of the Tuileries at the 
farther end w^ould come down ? Well, down they are, 
and our clever Emperor has now to contrive to make 
the two ends meet, which he can never do without an 
angle, and it will be an ugly one. We have just done 
voting for emperor, as you for president. Both have 
swept the country, both talk of peace, and I hope both 
will keep it. Already a solemn print of Louis in im- 
perial robes is in the shop-windows. It looks fearfully 
old-fashioned and impossible, and seems powerfully to 
criticise the situation. JVous verrons. . . . 

"Last night I was at the Vaudeville to see the 
"Dames aux Camelias," the most renowned of the 
plays now going, by Dumas fils. It is wonderfully 
clever ; as a piece of acting, far beyond anything we 
can do — a play full of that sickly interest the French 
like so well. Great red faces were streaming with 
tears at the pathos, and, when each act was done, a 
flourish of nasal trumpets proclaimed the clearing of 
the shower. There were belts of these happy, mobile 
Celts, their faces discharged of care, and devouring 
every word and feature. Rows of little children in 
the highest tier fluttered with their oranges and 
barley-candy, and their obeliskal bonnes nodded in 



28o Thomas G, Appleton. 

Norman caps at their sides. No one could feel the 
heart of that audience without believing in the differ- 
ence of races. No Anglo-Saxon actor, by any chance, 
could have performed the meanest of the characters, 
and no American or English audience could furnish 
that brooding and intelligent content with which the 
play was received. 

" The Hunts are near me. I went to-day to see 
packed a very admirable picture by William, bought 
by young Brooks, a * Fortune-Teller'; you will do well 
to see it when it arrives in Boston. Hunt is doing 
uncommonly well." 

'■'December 22, 1852. 

"... Yes, I am pretty comfortable. I dine out 
very often, sleep well, paint in pastels, talk a good 
deal, and enjoy life. 

"It seems to me that the sort of thing people 
would like, and that they find they miss, called happi- 
nesSy is not quite that, but will turn out, when we get 
it, to be something with a nobler edge than that has. 
Happiness is a feather-bed ; the sort of thing intended 
for us may be a wing, something on which we can 
either lie hushed in dreamy calm, or cut through the 
keenest and most bracing air. The body loves effort 
and repose, the spirit loves struggle and calm ; our 
happy destination may be a wonderful alliance of all 
these. ... I do not know why I have written to you 



Wandering Years. 281 

in such a strain. It is this smooth quill which does it, 
so different from the harsh, unloving edge of a steel 
pretender. How admirably our improvements are 
typed in that pen ! The charm taken, and the use 
left — a business utensil indeed. I do not believe I 
ever wrote three words of sentiment, affection, or feel- 
ing with any of them, and who ever did ? If Lamb 
had lived in the day of steel pens, he never could have 
got beyond his ledger. ... I send by the America 
a box from the good city of Paris, containing Christ- 
mas-gifts, but nothing for you, dear papa, who give 
me everything — but what to send you ? I could think 
of nothing ; Cordelia-like, I hope. I would send you, 
if possible, the whole Palais Royal if it would give you 
pleasure. You do not want a French carriage, some 
porcelain, some Carcel-lamps, some bronze statuettes, 
some French wines, boots, toys, dogs, cats, do you ? I 
think a good Angora cat would be the thing. They are 
immense, very strong, very long hair, very scratchy. I 
saw one at Madame Mohl's, who went through my 
trousers as if they were paper. I do not think they 
could stand our climate. Madame Mohl is as usual 
wonderful : hair, a mare's nest ; dress, a pen-wiper ; 
wit, exuberant ; oddity, immense. She lent me books, 
good ones. Perhaps you will be glad to know that 
Lucrezia Borgia had the fairest of golden locks. . . . 
" I dined last night at Lady Elgin's. She is won- 



282 Thomas G, Applet on. 

derfully alive to our knockings and spiritings, and had 
two philosophers to meet me. I propounded my 
strongest statements, and they all swallowed them. 
In return, I was told of one Mr. Forster's new system 
of reading hieroglyphics. He conceives the pictured 
lion to express the letter L, and not the animal — 
spells away, and finds he makes old Arabic words. 
There are gullies in Mount Sinai he reads off in the 
same way, and finds they are the same Mosaic account 
of the Israelites we have in the Old Testament. But 
this is all new, and against ChampoUion, so he rather 
gets laughed at by the savants, ... I dined a few days 
ago with Ary Scheffer — very pleasant, delightful anec- 
dotes about Beranger. Once a poor fellow, at whose 
bedside he was, unable to speak, could only turn his 
eyes from his old wife's face to Beranger's till he died. 
So Beranger toddles across the room, tells the old 
woman he has great need of coarse sewing, etc., and 
carries her off home with him, obeying the silent 
look of the dying man. I have bought a little Diaz — 
the French Rubens — Spanish blood and Murillo steal- 
ing constantly into his pictures. The Louvre has a 
tribune now — the great square room. It aches with 
immortal pictures — the focus of human genius." 

This Diaz now belongs to the collection of the 
Boston Museum of Fine Arts. 



Wandering Years. 283 

''January 13, 1853. 

" The Emperor lives snugly in his palace, but rides 
and drives out in very simple and confiding style. 
Every one here agrees as to his abilities. To have 
fatigued and used up all the clever entourage he had 
showed remarkable independence. He gradually 
numbed them all, and then, with one torpedo-touch, 
sent them under. He lives in an austere solitude of 
will. No one can divine the future, no one knows his 
secret intentions, his future wishes. The peace of 
Europe, the happiness of France, depends upon one 
life, his single brain. It is ghastly to look into this 
blank, unknown to-morrow ; luckily, the French never 
do care to look ahead. For us it would be intolerable. 
Every man would make it a matter of conscience, 
thereat to be miserable, but here they cry, ^ Vogue la 
galhre ! * and snap their fingers. ... I met at dinner 
the other day Merimee, a good writer, whom I have 
long wished to know. 

*' He was very pleasant, indeed ; gave puns and 
conundrums, and spicy historical anecdotes, of that 
rare sort that do not get into the books ; anecdotes of 
Hoche, Napoleon, Josephine, and others ; he was de- 
lightful, and kept my carriage waiting two hours, so 
that I lost another party I was to go to. 

" I dined also, a few days ago, with Bristed, who 
has taken a funny little hotel in the St. Germain quar- 



284 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

ter. The grand salon is like a private chapel, with a 
gallery all round, plafond painted to imitate fresco, 
and rich Italian furniture. Altogether, I was much 
amused ; our gay party of Yankees, drinking their 
champagne in all this splendor, was like Sam Slick 
musing in the ruins of. Carthage. 

"I received, yesterday, from Longfellow's London 
publisher, a new edition of his poems. Prefixed to it 
is a woodcut portrait, which, of course, resembles not 
at all. It is as fine a flight of fancy as any in the book. 
I will send this to Jasmin. Merimee says Jasmin 
does not understand one word of English, but will be 
delighted with the present, and will get somebody to 
translate all there is about himself." 

There is an account of this Proven9al poet in Mr. 

Appleton's "Sheaf of Papers." 

" May 4, 1853. 

" I have had a new, very agreeable pleasure. You 
know how often I have bored you with stories of the 
delightful new forces in table-moving, and such like, 
which found no favor among the sagacious people of 
Boston. A few days ago I was importuned to show 
something of it here, and did so with full success, not 
a person witnessing but found it genuine. Peter Par- 
ley, at whose house it came off, gave immediately a 
grand seance. I happened to be dining with the 
Mohls, where we had Mignet the historian, Lady 



Wander mg Years, 285 

Elgin, and others. I carried them all off to see the 
fun. We had over fifty people assembled — many 
savants and remarkable men, the young people of 
Arago, he being too infirm to come. In a quarter of 
an hour we were under way. M. Coste (the Govern- 
ment agent for the new pisciculture) made the table 
move by his unspoken will, while Arago's nephews 
were seen hugging a little table, which trotted under 
their hands. So I was content. No one has called 
me odd or crazy, but I get satisfaction on every side." 

"June 9, 1853. 

*' . . . /e reve un cottage at Newport, and look for- 
ward to a snug house, and a snug wife, and a snug leg 
of mutton. . . . 

" Thank Henry for his joke. I return him one of 
mine. A play by Ponsard, * L'honneur et I'Argent,* is 
playing here ; the heroine is called Laure : so I say of 
the lover, * Quoi qu'il meprise I'argent, il adore Laure 
(I'or).' 

" So he has taken leave of Hawthorne. We shall 
see how such a ghost-seer will manage as consul at 
Liverpool." 

When the weather grew too hot for Paris, Mr. 
Appleton broke up his establishment and went to 
Dieppe, where he took much pleasure and good from 
sea-bathing. He received news there of the death of 



286 Thomas G. Applet on, 

his uncle, Samuel Appleton, which was a great grief to 
him. He returned to England and joined Mrs. Mack- 
intosh, who had been in America, at Tenby, in Wales, 

" October 5, 1853. 

" Dear Father : I have been now some three or 
four days at this Welsh watering-place, certainly one 
of the prettiest I ever saw anywhere. I look from 
the window upon a semicircular little harbor, filled 
with shining brown-sparred fishing-boats, driven in by 
these equinoctial gusts, as, for instance, day before 
yesterday, when the whole sea was starred with little, 
straight-down hits of wind, and many a sea-sick craft 
crawled round our corner. The coast beyond is won- 
derfully like our cliff-house view at Newport — the same 
ledge running out, overhung by cliffs, and green and 
sloping shores beyond. This is softer and bigger ; 
that is richer and brighter. 

"... I wish to heaven God would make people 
well and keep them so, and at last knock them off 
their perch in a comfortable and manly manner ! I 
can bear seeing a man or woman suffer, but I loathe a 
morbid disposition. I have been looking over the life 
of poor Henry Ware. Capital fellow, good as gold, 
but all sickly, and made wretched by a want of reason- 
able physical life, such as every animal has, and most 
savages. It may be one of the advantages of the next 



Wandering Years. 287 

world, and of not being encumbered with bodies, that 
we shall not trail these hindrances and checks. 

"The children are nicely and charming, so well 
behaved and very companionable. I drove them, 
yesterday, to see an old castle of Lord Mitford's, a 
noble ruin, very fine Norman style, said to be of the 
days of Rufus. Coming back we stopped at Lydstep 
to see some extraordinary rocks. You would have 
enjoyed the sight ; I never saw anything finer. The 
strata are perpendicular, honey-combed beautifully by 
wind and wave, and with three lofty and picturesque 
caverns, growing on a soft, smooth little beach. One 
would be the beau-ideal of an opera pirate, far beyond 
any Saddlers' Wells smugglers. I should have well 
liked to hear Grisi in it. All along this shore the Old 
Red is in great force, lying in ridges and sidewise. 
The shells and algae are also very fine here. We go 
to-day and get an early dinner with the Misses Allen, 
two good old ladies, quite the model of the olden 
time, like Miss Hannah More, Mrs. Barbauld, and 
Mrs. Trimmer — I always fancied her name most as a 
teacher for the young. They live in a pretty cottage 
with such a lovable view, headland and isle and 
plunging beach, broad seas, and the bright flowers of 
a very tidy garden to give value to all these neutral 
tints. In the second place is the Burrows, a favorite 
spot with the children, whither they led me, and we ran 



288 Thomas G. Applet on. 

up and down the grass-tufted sand-hills and peeped 
into the holes to see the rabbits ; but all the Welsh 
rabbits I have seen are in our supper-plates at home. 
. . . The children have brought in their letters, and I 
must finish. Soon this will be leaping on the bright 
billows and tumbling into your hand. I am much 
tempted to take a trip to your side, and see you all 
before you lie shut in with snow, like plums in a 
wedding-cake. I should so like a crack with you over 
the mahogany, this goose-quill substitute is so poor 
— no eye meeting eye, no voice echoing to voice ; but 
one writes away into the void, like a man talking 
against the wind, though haply believing the voice is 
heard, and not lost on its way. Good-by. 

** Ever your loving son Tom." 

As it happened, not long after, Mr. Appleton 
returned to America, and really settled down for a 
longer time than ever before. His sister, Mrs. Long- 
fellow, who was happily living in Cambridge, per- 
suaded him to take a house near her ; and finding one 
in Phillips Place which suited him, he there estab- 
lished his household gods, and for the first time set 
up housekeeping for himself. The wandering years 
were at an end ; he began to taste the comforts and 
delights of a home ; indeed, his rive of snugness was 
realized, with the omission of one of its three items. 



Wander i7tg Years. 289 

In his Cambridge house he had a good cook, and 
gave delightful dinners. He soon surrounded himself 
with a pleasant circle of friends, and it was easy to 
supplement guests and viands from Boston when the 
nearer supply gave out. He had a favorite story of 
an occasion when the ice-cream ordered from Mrs. 
Mayer's did not arrive in time. The anxiety of the 
host, the despair of the cook, the ill-concealed malaise 
of the guests were reaching the tragic point, when the 
longed-for wagon rattled up to the door, and all was 
well. . 

Mrs. Longfellow's children, as those of Mrs. 
Mackintosh had been, became a source of interest 
and enjoyment to their uncle ; his strong affection for 
their mother, and their own development, were bind- 
ing them closely to him. With Mr. Longfellow, Mr. 
Appleton took a cottage at Nahant, which to the time 
of his death was his favorite home. Close to the 
rocky edge, its piazza overlooks the water and the 
bay, with a view of distant Boston, commanding the 
sunset view behind the town. Yachts, steamers, cat- 
boats, come and go directly in sight, and in later years, 
at her moorings, within easy hailing distance, swung 
his own yacht, the beloved Alice, always ready for 
a sail. 

Nahant had always been a favorite resort for all 

the Appletons, and Thomas had passed many gay days 
25 



290 Thomas G. Applet on, 

at the old hotel there. In 1855 Mr. Nathan Appleton 
bought a place on Ocean Street, in Lynn, within easy- 
driving distance of the cottage at Nahant, where was 
to be found the happy family circle of half-brothers 
and sister, fast becoming favorites with the oldest son 
of the house. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

OATLANDS PARK. 
1855. 

It was not to be expected that a planet with so 
erratic an orbit should at once become a star abso- 
lutely fixed. Frequent runs to New York, where, as 
in the large European cities, Mr. Appleton found 
always hosts of friends, interrupted the even tenor of 
life at Cambridge. In New York he was at home in 
the studios of artists, a race of beings with whom he 
had close affinities. Church, Darley, Kensett, were 
among his intimate friends. The tie with the latter 
was peculiarly strong, and lasted until the death of 
the artist. 

In the summer of 1855 Mr. Appleton was busy 
with the debut of Elise Hensler upon the stage in 
opera, and went to New York in order to interest his 
friends there in the prima donna, and the occasion. 
He writes from the Everett House : 



292 Thomas G, Applet on, 

''June 16, 1855. 
" I am very well entertained here, and not a little 
busy, trying to give Miss Elise a good start. To-night 
is the eventful occasion. I have interested my friends 
here, who gladly lend themselves to a pretty girl's 
d^but. So we are to take a box, encourage the 
debutante^ and hit her with bouquets." He adds : 
** Yesterday I took a run up the river, by slow train, 
saw better than ever the lovely features of this river 
prince, and dined at Cozzens's at West Point ; saw son 
and father. The old* man rem-inded me of twenty 
years ago, and I heard him complaining of a barrel of 
eggs broken, which had been brought from New York 
so that country visitors might have them fresh. The 
serious faces of several Boston people caught my eye 
under the spacious verandas. I took a drive down 
the banks for an hour ; saw landscapes beyond ex- 
pression lovely, and painted at hand from them a 
dozen big pictures ; when back I was just in time to 
ferry over the river, and whirl to town for Elise's 
serenade and supper, both of which failed, however ! " 

That summer was spent at Newport with the Long- 
fellows, and two or three friends ; among them Ken- 
sett and George William Curtis. " We find," he says, 
"our plan of a mixed household as pleasant as ever. 
Never were Curtis and Kensett more agreeable or 



Oat lands Park. 293 

sunny. Mrs. Perry is as strong and willing a body as 
can be, and her daughter, next door, is Newport's best 
washerwoman. We had Mr. Boker, the dramatic 
author, to dine with us yesterday. We called on his 
wife at Bateman's, where we saw swarms of children, 
dogs, swings, and black-fish. We do have a good 
time. The weather is rather helpless, lazy, and good- 
for-nothing, but we become sociable in proportion. 
North, South, East, and West fuse very well, and ought 
to be even better friends than they are. . . . Mr. 
Everett is at the Bancrofts', charming the young peo- 
ple with his affluent mind. For long I have not seen 
him so happy, even gay ; I do not recognize the 
austere president of City Library Trustees. . . . We, 
that is, Kensett, I, and the boys (Charles and Ernest 
Longfellow), were out fishing for four hours yesterday 
in the foggy, soft morning, and yet got pretty well 
burned. Mine nose feels rather loose to-day, and looks 
like a lobster's claw. We caught, that is, Charley did, 
who beat us all, one big tautog, eight or ten sculpin, 
and four or five flounders, besides one blue-fish I got, 
which proved very good to-day for breakfast. So as 
yet Kensett and I have not painted. He chooses sites 
and takes it easy. It is full hot to work in the sun as 
yet. I am trying to get up concerts for Elise Hensler 
here. Newport needs something to fill up the time, and 
I may amuse the public and put money in her pocket." 



294 Thomas G, Applet on. 

''August 9, 1855. 
" We are all charmed with Tennyson's new poem, 
of which Fields has sent us the proof-sheets. We even 
took it out to Lawton's Valley, and read it to Mrs. 
Howe, to the tune of her leaping brook, and, when we 
were done, went and took tea under the trees very 
merrily, looked at with wonder by the good people 
going by. We hope soon to share your content with 
the Sydney Smith Life. He was wise and witty, 
which is a much happier alliteration than witty and 
wicked, which Heine, whose book I have just read, 
seems to have been." 

This poem of Tennyson's was "Maud," which 
appeared in the spring of that year. 

" Mrs. Anthony's, Church Street, September — , 1855. 
" Dear Father : I suppose by this time the Long- 
fellows are with you, to our great loss, who will at the 
Saturday dinner tell you all the latest summer news. 
Here now, luckily, we have none. Long, balmy, 
placid days, untormented by the restless male and 
female dandy, glide over our heads. Nature, with a 
sad sweetness in her fading smile, says, * Come quick 
and paint me, ere my last leaf is ravished, my last 
colors pale.' And we go and paint her, poorly, mean- 
ly, with the soul, the sunshine, the heart of her left 
out. But in our defeat some of the tender meaning. 



Oat lands Park. 295 

the grace, the glory, gets into us — let us hope for 
good. My dear Kensett, that sweet child sitting at 
the feet of Nature, is gone to wrestle with the mount- 
ains, to put down from their haughty scalps some- 
thing of their ethereal crown and nobleness. He is 
gone, to my great regret ; but the Storys have come, 
old friends of mine — he, the ready, quick-witted 
artist ; she, the full-hearted, unpinched woman ; and 
here in our new house, with Curtis, we live the heaven- 
ly autumn hours. To-day is to be turned to special 
account. With the Shaws we are to spend the day at 
the Glen ; we take our wine and chicken, and by the 
gentle sea, and near a picturesque mill, we shall use 
well this latter sunshine. 

Pleasant as was this experiment of Newport life, 
the next July found the inveterate wanderer on the 
Atlantic, writing as usual from the steamer, " This is 
certainly one of the pleasantest passages I have made." 
The ship's company were especially agreeable ; his 
friends the Storys went on that voyage, and Mr. Rich- 
ard Dana {\}ci^x\. junior^ the writer of "Two Years be- 
fore the Mast "), and there were a number of less 
intimate acquaintances who proved amusing ; one of 
them a Mormon elder on a proselyting tour, whose 
nasal twang, as he described the interview between 
Joseph Smith and the higher powers concerning the 



296 Thomas G, Apple ton. 

authenticity of the Mormon tablets, Mr. Appleton 
used to imitate to his last days, *' which being shown 
to the angel, proved to be abso/^a//ly caorrect." Mr. 
Barry, of the Boston Theatre, and Miss Biddies, the 
pretty actress, were on board ; the gay party found 
the paddle-box a nice place to sit, in the morning, 
where they told stories, recited poems, and talked of 
writing a book, to be called " Spray from the Paddle- 
box." 

With these friends, Mr. William W. Story and his 
family, Mr. Appleton took a house for three months, 
at Walton-on-Thames, in Surrey, not far from Lon- 
don, just by the country-place, at that time, of Mr. 
Russell Sturgis, Mount Felix. He describes it thus : 

"Oatlands Park, August \t^, 1856. 
" Dear Father : Once upon a time there was a 
rich Englishman whose name was Hughes Ball (re- 
verse it, and you have a poor American sculptor). 
Now this man was a prodigal, and spent his sub- 
stance, and his estate is called Oatlands Park, and 
has been brought to the hammer. It is to be sold 
in ten days, and won't bring more than four thou- 
sand pounds ; and if I could only transport the whole 
to our side, I should consider it a bargain. It is most 
tastefully and comfortably fitted up, the drawing and 
dining rooms are exquisite, and it has a conservatory 



Oat lands Park, 297 

full of promising grapes and flowers, a capital stable, 
a large garden full of fruit ; the grounds are well laid 
out and picturesque. We have the silver Thames just 
by, and a large lake of our own, full of carp, mullet, 
and jack. I have my painting-materials, and yester- 
day painted a distance, tender wheat-fields, the heavy 
sheaves looking from afar like a yellow mass-meeting, 
a few farm-houses, and a square church-tower in light, 
sentineled by black and burly elms against the faint 
gray hills beyond. That is one view ; and I shall do 
many more ; there are river-views full of beauty, and 
we have in our park large places wild as Wisconsin, 
with trees freshly planted. It is ridiculously like 
America for a place so near London. . . . Thackeray 
is gone to the Continent with his two daughters ; he is 
not well, and is to begin there a new book, which he 
says he means to make good. I hear that Lady Byron 
wishes to talk spirits, etc. ; she is a neighbor of ours, 
so I may drive over and see her. It feels unelectrical 
here ; I should be surprised if the ghosts could keep 
dry enough to rap in these mists. They drop down 
now, like mercy, in an unstrained shower, making 
the roses hang their heads, waving before the distant 
farms in lawny veils." 

" Oatlands Park, September 3, 1856. 
" Dear Father : The Saturdays fly in so thick, 
I almost forgot that a letter will not be to you unac- 



298 



Thomas G. Appleton. 



ceptable ; of late we have been particularly busy. 
Our friends Lothrop Motley and family have just left 
for your side, and you must fete this lucky author, 
who has so Well explained how the Dutch came to 
take Holland. He has made us very lively, and to 
him our lovely river-brink after Germany was an Ar- 
mida's garden. 

" Besides dinners and lunches, which between our 
two houses were daily varied, we boated down to 
Hampton Court, and though somewhat bored by its 
ill-cared-for gallery, were more than delighted with 
the Raffaelles and the grand grape-vine hanging full 
of nearly ripe bunches. It is a wonder, a miracle ; I 
saw not a spot or blight on a single leaf. 

" The shooting is in full play, as the frequent bang 
near me reminds me. I do not make as many pict- 
ures as I wish, as lunches, visits, dinners, eat into the 
time. But the idlesse of this rural life is the greater 
reason. One reads the * Times,' with the wide shad- 
ows falling across the sheet, in a garden-chair, and 
music all around from the shrubbery, and one gets to 
protract the reading and enjoy the sunny garden-side. 
Sometimes, upon our lake, I watch my quill and float, 
but never get a bite. I have not, as yet, tried in the 
river ; but last night, as we rowed up through rocks 
and osiers, and fringed banks, we passed many a punt 
holding a whole family, the papa whipping the stream 



Oat lands Park. 299 

while the daughters read or sewed, sung under their 
umbrella-hats ; and though the fish might be small, 
the fun evidently was great. I saw one rather majes- 
tic barbet taken, which reminded me of Izaak Walton. 
There are perch and trout, and many more fish, in the 
river. We have an old church and quaint church- 
yard, and we have a pew. It is rural and pleasant, 
albeit so near London, though certainly the clergy- 
man is no wonder. I went to-day through the vil- 
lage, and was wonderfully reminded of all the novels 
I have lately read of English life. The same style of 
men in the same tap-rooms, and the village oddity 
and snob, seem here well imitated from the books. 
" Love to all the chicks, and to the Nahant cottage." 

The house at Oatlands Park was taken for three 
months, and Mr. Appleton stayed there till the mid- 
dle of November ; his gay party gathered around 
them a succession of guests, with whom, and their 
neighbors at Mount Felix, there were nightly frolick- 
ing, charades, music, tableaux. Mr. Hurlbut was a 
frequent and welcome visitor ; Mr. Charles Norton 
came ; in fact, the capacities of the house being over- 
strained, the lodge was fitted up as quarters for bach- 
elor guests, and at the same time as a studio ; it had a 
lattice-window, oak benches and chairs, and clematis 
flourished over the porch. 



300 Thomas G. Apple ton. 

Mr. Appleton writes on the presidential prospect 
of 1856 to his father: "If Buchanan comes in, and 
goes on, if ever so little, in the Pierce fashion, we 
shall have to pull down our pretensions to liberty in 
Europe. I dare say we may yet turn out a strong, 
rich, clever, tyranny-loving people. There still will 
be a few nations worse than we shall be, but nowhere 
are the free energies of a people like New England's 
so adroitly and constitutionally enslaved as the North 
will then be by the South. It will be hard to bear, 
but may do us good, make us more humble, and more 
willing to look after our sins. ... I am now awaiting 
the arrival of Mrs. Rich and the Wedgwoods and 
Farrars, who are coming from London to lunch with 
us, if not deterred by this fog ; to-day is better, but 
yesterday was a day of Acheron ; as Mrs. Story clev- 
erly said, it was like biting into a raw potato. We 
have asked Lady Augusta Bruce, and she promises 
to drive over with the duchess's carriage. If they 
all come, we shall have the merriest of meetings, such 
good and friendly people." 

This pleasant episode, which Mr. Appleton used 
to refer to in later years with great satisfaction, came 
to an end. The party broke up ; the Storys went to 
Rome, and Mr. Appleton to Paris, for the winter. This 
time he took an apartment in the Rue de Luxembourg. 



Oatlands Park. 301 

''December 10, 1856. 

" I went last night to the Piccolomini's dibut — a 
dear little woman, singing with feeling and heart, and 
some voice, in that sad and nasty opera ' La Traviata.* 
It was a full house, all artistic and literary Paris there 
— Scribe, Gautier, and other clever Parisians. No 
Emperor, however ; but after a short waiting for him 
we began — amid what eagerness and interest ! Before 
the trashy opera was over how much were they cooled ! 
There seems here a general want of first-rate talent — 
on the stage, in opera, in the cabinet — I suppose, the 
old complaint of all time. Last night I was at a very 
agreeable house, that of M. de Tourgenieff, a Russian, 
who has forfeited his life at home for trying to free 
his serfs, and has to live here ; a noble fellow, with a 
charming wife speaking perfect English, and a daugh- 
ter. I met there Mrs. Stowe, who was very pleasant ; 
so I asked her to dinner for next Thursday, to meet 
Madame Mohl, etc. I shall start my cook and valet, 
and hope they won't blunder and bother. . . . 

" Yesterday I went to the famous doll-shop (imag- 
ine how it was overrun, anticipating the /<?^^r ^<? /'dt«), 
and found such a cunning box of doll, three dresses, 
hat, cloak, etc. ; I bargained for it for little Alice, and 
it will go in the box with the cast of the Venus de 
Milo." 

26 



302 Thomas G, Appleton. 

''March i8, 1857. 

" I do not know if you understand the Credit Mo- 
bilier, but if you do you are among the happy few. It 
has its offices, in an imposing way, in the stately Place 
Vendome. The very look of them has a humbugging 
air ; and that they should be in that famous place 
built, you may remember, by the Scotchman Law, is 
ominous. So violent is speculation here, that many 
pieces on the stage satirize it. To show the temper of 
the times, I give you the saying of a witty St. Germain 
dowager the other day — that to marry a girl, nowa- 
days, she must have her fortune en rentes^ and her 
parents en terre. The Emperor holds good ; I hope 
you read his opening speech, one of his best, full of 
good sense and character. He extorts a sort of admi- 
ration even from his enemies. Our medium-friend, 
Hume, is capsizing all Paris. The Emperor sends for 
him very often, and he and the Empress shake hands 
with the other world and see marvels, to which the old- 
time imperial writing upon the wall was but a phos- 
phoric trick. 

" Miss Hensler first touched here on her way. She 
is much admired, singing at private concerts, and soon 
will get a good engagement." 

Thus passed the winter ; in May, 1857, Mr. Apple- 
ton left Paris ; as it happened, this was his last stay 
there for any length of time. 



Oatlands Park, 303 

*' Dear Father : To-morrow I am off for Eng- 
land, and I think for home, and that speedily. I 
never make up my plans till the last moment, which 
gives them great freshness and vigor. My heart yearns 
toward you, and I must see you. I shall find you at 
Lynn, listening to the rustling billows, and will take a 
good swim with Master Will. I have some coins for 
him. I am giving away my pictures, and leaving sun- 
dry half-finished toiles to the dogs. . . . Well, I come 
home on the 13th, in the Persia, once again with Jud- 
kins ; it will be pleasant." 



CHAPTER XVIL 

HOME WANDERINGS. 
1856-1863. 

Among the artists whom Mr. Appleton met at 
Kensett's studio, on his frequent New York excur- 
sions, was Mr. F. O. C.'Darley ; in the summer of 1859 
Mr. Darley was visiting him at Cambridge, when a visit 
to Moosehead Lake was proposed, and put into exe- 
cution with that suddenness which characterized all 
his excursions. His admiration of the wildness and 
beauty of the scenery of Maine was unbounded. He 
was particularly struck v/ith the cry of the loon ; its 
strange, wild voice, with the fiend-like, mocking laugh 
at the end of it, inspired then and there these lines : 

THE LOON. 

When swinging in his silent boat, 

The sportsman sees the happy lake 
Repeat the heavens which o'er him float, 
A quiet which no whispers break — 
Then, ah ! that cry 
Drops from the sky. 
In mournful tones of agony. 



Home Wanderings, 305 

The spirit of the lonely woods, 

Of wastes unseen and soundless shores. 
The genius of the solitude 

In that complaint appealing pours — 
One voice of grief, 
Appealing, brief. 
As hopeless ever of relief. 

When evening breathes with perfumed air, 

Delicious sadness, longings high, 
A pensive joy, untouched by care. 
Then hark, a laugh falls from the sky — 
A mocking jeer 
Floats o'er the mere. 
And Eve-born sorrows disappear. 

'Tis thus, when Nature overbears 

Our human needs of joy and woe 
Too much, these link it to our tears, 
And shame us in their overflow : 
That laugh, that cry, 
To us come nigh, 
And solitude's society. 

There is a fragment of a journal begun but never 
finished on this trip, called, " The Sporting Tour of 
Messieurs Romeo and Chunks." It begins thus : 

^^ July 6^ 1859. — We left Boston by the Boston and 
Maine Railroad, at 7.30 A. m. We were mentally busy 
counting the various sundries which constitute the 
total of sporting-people's outfit, sure that some if not 
more items were forgotten, but after the tenth time of 
counting we wiped the slate of memory and organized 



3o6 Thomas G. Appleton, 

ourselves as cheerful. We decided to keep our eyes 
buttoned open, not to miss one startling or picturesque 
fact of our tour ; and so sharp were we, that we almost 
squeezed something to note out of the heavy basket- 
ful of chips which always constitutes the contents of 
a Yankee car. One stalwart man, with suppressed 
neck, and staff longer than an umbrella-case should 
be, I already spotted as a fellow of the craft ; need I 
add that he has dogged us ever since ? A sort of com- 
mittee of Maine men, all in the national red-shirt 
(which goes to show that, if the Indians are gone, 
there are a few red-men left), burst into the car; they 
had the tan of a hundred noons on their merry faces, 
their straw hats had a touch of the smuggler and the 
peasant, broad and serviceable, with flowers and tap 
of ribbon. Later we made their acquaintance, and 
talked of their adventures, and their high spirits raised 
ours. They had been driving logs in Canada. Here 
are some of their mugs, sketched by Romeo (Mr. 
Darley), vide sketches. 

"We reached Newport, where we left the rail, 
about 5 p. M. Our stout friend and his rod-case got 
out with us and scrambled up on the only coach, 
while we walked up the hill to the inn, had a jolly 
supper with our lumbermen, whose child-like fun 
began to be a little embellished with liquor. They 
drove off in a big wagon, screeching and laughing like 



Home Wander mgs, 307 

wild Indians. We chartered another wagon to fetch 
us on. We had a capital fellow for driver, an egg- 
merchant, who keeps eggs six months and sells thirteen 
thousand dollars' worth of them to the Boston markets. 
He told us wonderful stories of his mare and his frolics. 
We rattled along for two hours under a pleasant moon 
to Dexter, where we found our stout friend and rod in 
profound thought in the front parlor. We took a 
copious tea, and retired to rest to the music of a 
brook behind the house. 

^''July ph, — The scenery grew and grew into no- 
ble mountains, sparkling lakes, and wild, fascinating 
country. The day was hot, the valleys plunged into 
musquitory stillness, and the elevations showing the 
sailing cloud-shadows and many hills. 

" We lunched at Abbot ; nothing but an inn. 
Wild-strawberries, brought in by the boarders, saved 
a fearful meal. We are in the heart of the famous 
cuisine of New England — doughnuts, as if a hail-storm 
had dropped over us, huge cake, scalped and painted 
like a sachem, and meat which gave us for its origin 
the choice of quadruped or old shoes. After lunch a 
grim woman, in heavy glasses, burst into the parlor, 
and gave us a shower-bath of all her family events : 
how her husband was gone to Californy, and did not 
mean to return for five years (looking at her, I thought 
this exile might be wise) ; how she lived in a level 



3o8 Thomas G, Appleton, 

country, and the first day she got here she thought she 
must go back right away, the meauntins looked so 
duberous^ she could not get used to them no ways. 

" By 5 p. M. we were at Greenville ; the splendid 
lake washing the town, and the hotel agreeable. We 
walked through a clearing to see a young moose 
caught last winter. We pitied him, tethered and 
bleeding from the cuts of cord, dancing about his tree 
with untamed haughtiness. . . . The evening was per- 
fect ; the moon came out, and the broad lake, the 
many isles, all with perfect black shadows thrown into 
the tumbling opal of the water, made the scene like 
a first-rate one of the Grand Opera. An old un- 
painted tow-boat partook of the picturesqueness that 
all things gain from ruin. What broad, tender tints 
washed the mountains ! How reluctantly they parted 
with their beauty and color ! . . . 

^^July ^th. — At breakfast we found our trout, 
though the ruddiest ever seen, not so wonderful, 
treated by the imbecile cook ; these fine gentlemen, 
disguised in the vulgar dress of a Greenville kitchen, 
were changelings. By eight o'clock we were off in our 
yacht Katahdin. Delicious was the sail ; from little 
to little, we fell into dreamy calms, monotonous but 
charming ; yet we crept along, enjoying scenery and 
cigars, saw all the wonders of the lake, admired and 
trolled and bathed, and so spent the day. Mr. Romeo 



Home Wanderings, 309 

sketched, and Mr. Chunks confided his feelings to 

verse. 

THE YACHT KATAHDIN. 

Like cherubs nestled in a cloud, 
We float along the mighty lake, 

Our shade Katahdin's sail — 
We float along, and see our wake 

Of frosted silver pale. 

Louis, the brother of the moose, 
Whose step recalls the springing trout. 

Watches our tinkling prow ; 
We lie, like gods, and gaze about. 

And feel contented now. 

At first, so sweetly earth and heaven 
Agreed, each seemed the other's twin — 

Earth an inverted sky ; 
Now some dark, heavenly hand has driven 
The brightness, stamping, soft and dim. 

Each isle and mountain high. 

The ranks of pine are twined with mist, 
On Lily Bay the smile expires, 

Her brow in sorrow veiled ; 
On the far reach die out the fires 

Where late the sun prevailed. 

But fair our lake at crimsoned eve, 
Or wavering in the moonlight wild ; 

At morn a cup of pearl : 
Though wild, her face still glances mild — 

A sweet New England girl, 

" After this serious effort he felt better, unscrewed 
his comforter, and blew a cloud, which Romeo immor- 



3IO Thomas G, Appleton, 

talized on paper — ' The Helmsman.* Later, Chunks 
got off in another strain, as the dejection of calm came 
over him : 

DECEPTIONS. 

Our thought is on the monstrous moose, 

Our thought is on the trout ; 
We long to see the first run loose, 

To pull the other out. 

Two guides took us to see the moose. 

We fired up our tobaccos ; 
We found him haltered in a noose, 

And looking like a jackass. 

Beside him was a little pool. 

" Trout there ! " the guides said ; so 
We looked down through the shadows cool, 

And saw a minnow go. 

We thought the bottom of the lake 

Was trout all laid in stacks ; 
We thought a walk we could not take. 

For fear of rifle-cracks. 

I guess the bottom's fallen out. 

The shooting but report ; 
We've bagged three horse-flies — that's about 

The total of our sport. 

" The calm increased. Louis, silent, sculled the 
heavy boat. Our only music was the squeak of his 
oar. Chunks, fallen into deeper gloom, came to 
this : 



Home Wanderings, 3 1 1 

CALM. 

It's getting calm, and I am not ; 

It really is provoking, 
To help ourselves to hot and hot. 

With baked puns for our joking. 
Our Romeo sits, as Memnon did, 

As silent and as sunny ; 
And Chunks towers up a pyramid. 

And just about as funny. 
Mount Kineo's off full fifteen mile — 

We'll reach it when we get there ; 
Before we do, our dinner'll spoil, 

There'll be another het there. 
We've drawed the hills, we've writ the varse, 

Each one in his gray jacket. 
And just saw that old steamer pass 

With most insulting racket. 
Oh, dear ! the Bourbon's nearly out, 

Our lunch is stuck at Dexter; 
We see no likelihood of trout— 

We're vexeder and vexed-er. 
The landscape's going from our sight, ^ 

We're both of us lugubrious. 
And think the Abbot woman right — 

We called the mountains " duberous!' 

"... My bath in the lake was delightful, but not 
long, for the boat, drawing ahead, would have de- 
serted me ; so Louis drew me in, and I reposed, like 
a gigantic frog, upon the sunny deck. It was the 
heaviest fish he had ever got in. Suddenly, whisk ! 
came a shower, and such a one ! From one or two 



312 Thomas G. Appleton, 

big drops, the field of the lake became a huge chess- 
board, where pawns, jet black and white, were moving 
and taking each other, and then were put away in some 
invisible box. It was we who were the stake of this 
diabolic game. 

** Then, from tumult, we fell again to calm ; but 
we were under Squaw Mountain, and Kineo was in 
sight." 

Soon after this the journal ends abruptly — either 
never finished, or missing. 



Mr. Appleton was very fond of the out-door de- 
lights belonging to camp-life. One of the best beloved 
of his reminiscences was of an excursion to the Adi- 
rondacks in the autumn of 1859, with an exceptionally 
agreeable party of friends. For a person who loved 
his ease, and was singularly well versed in the meth- 
ods which conduce to ease, Mr. Appleton was won- 
derfully able to dispense with it. He endured the 
discomforts of camp-life with cheerful heroism, and 
rose in the early morning from a bed of boughs, fresh 
and refreshed, as from the best of mattresses. 

The travelers left Boston in a driving easterly 
rain-storm, such as we have sometimes in September, 
on the journey that was to be such " a joy forever " 
to all of them in memory. The rain ceased by the 



Home Wa7iderings, 313 

time they got fairly into the wilderness, and when 
they reached Bartlett, on the upper Saranac Lake, 
the clouds lifted, and they had delightful weather all 
the rest of the time. 

**You may well imagine," writes Mrs. Lawrence, 
who was one of the party, " what it must have been 
to travel through those lovely regions in company with 
Mr. Appleton. The gorgeous tints of the autumn, 
the mellow sunshine, the open-air life, and the peace 
and stillness of all around us seemed to sink into his 
very soul, and to develop all the poetic elements of 
his nature. Wonderful talks we had while gliding 
down Rackett River, or seated beneath the shadow 
of the pines, or couched among the pale mosses and 
scarlet whortleberry-bushes of the fairy-like islands." 

This Adirondack trip inspired many an impromptu 
poem ; among them the following : 

When autumn leaves were fading fast 

In the keen October weather, 
Two fair ones from the city passed 

Out to the woods together. 
The sunshine which the day denied 

Lived in their eyes entrancing, 
And, as they stepped, their mutual stride 

Was as a brooklet's dancing. 

Through mist and rain and cloud they faced 

With sunshine in their faces. 
So bright, no melancholy dared 

Live in the dreariest places. 
27 



314 Thomas G. Applet on. 

The Saranac stood robed in mist. 

Struck through with gold and cherry, 
And all its hemlocks would have kissed 

Those cheeks so round and merry. 
In keeping with the dying year, 

Their Balmorals repeated 
The tints on every mountain sere, 

And crimson crimson greeted. 

. . . Thus guarded, they confiding roam 

Through all the forest mazes ; 
Each cavern is their happy home, 

And safe the wildest places. 
. . . His war-horn no mosquito dare 

Sound as they- float between the islands. 
No midget bite, no spider scare 

Where all is perfume, dream, and silence. 

The pine-tree, like a Persian chief. 

Bearded and dark above them towers, 
His carpet rich with many a leaf 

And wine-red moss and scarlet flowers. 
Beside him, like a daughter fair. 

The birch leans trembling modestly, 
The golden sequins in her hair, 

Which, caught by zephyrs, fall and fly, 
Flooring with gold the amber sheet 
Which spreads in beauty round their feet. 

An undated letter from Trenton Falls, N. Y., to 
his father, expresses his appreciation of the beautiful 
nature of his own country : 

" I shall never more wonder at your enthusiasm 
about this place. I hold it to be the noblest cas- 



Home Wanderings, 315 

cade I have ever seen. When I arrived, the waters 
of three days had swollen it to wildness. It has not 
one mean or paltry accessory to all its mile of won- 
derful beauty. How unique is that magical walk, 
close to the whirling water, and the rich trees, with 
sweeping and grooved rocks below ! Nothing can be 
finer. 

" I find here my friend Church and his new bride. 
I have lent her my Claude mirror to see the falls 
in ; but she has or ought to have a mirror within for 
everything now which Claude never dreamed of. She 
is lovely, like a marble by Palmer, whose studio, by- 
the-way, we had time to visit in Albany, and saw 
lovely things, though he was away." 

The memory of his early camping experiences 
was bright enough to induce him, in the autumn of 
1 88 1, when he was nearly seventy years old, to yield 
to the persuasions of Mr. and Mrs. Church, and go 
with them and a little party they formed, to Mr. 
Church's camp on Lake Millinoket in Maine. 

The weather was exceptionally warm and summer- 
like when the little fleet of canoes was launched to 
ascend the Penobscot. Mr. Appleton bravely stepped 
into the one prepared for him, a mighty craft of birch, 
exceptionally large and strong, with a wise and ex- 
perienced guide at each end to pole it up the japids. 



3i6 Thomas G, Appleton, 

All day the canoes glided over the water, sometimes 
through placid places where pond-lilies were seen 
floating on the surface, more often picking their way 
along the stony, turbulent bed of the swollen stream. 
Two nights were passed in tents before the destina- 
tion of the party was reached. They slept well on 
couches of pine-boughs, to the music of the mosquito 
and kindred melodies. No one in the morning was 
more gay, or with a better appetite for delicious fried 
salt pork, than Mr. Appleton ; he was the first ready 
for the walk through the woods across the " carry." 

Mr. Church's luxurious log-camp is on the edge 
of a lovely lake, confronting Mount Katahdin, which 
rises in all its majesty directly opposite. Little waves 
plash upon a beach of yellow sand ; a tiny rivulet of 
ice-cold water trickles through the thick forest to the 
shore. A huge fire of logs, in the open air, blazed 
before the camp, and, when evening came, glowed 
afar. The band of guides made a most efficient staff, 
anticipating every want of the party, and cooking the 
ample meals demanded by out-door appetites. 

Mr. Appleton enjoyed everything — the bath in the 
lake, for which the weather was mild enough, the ex- 
peditions in canoes to beautiful points, the wondrous 
effects of sunset upon the mountain, and even the little 
hardships inevitable to the smoothest sort of *' rough- 
ing it.'* With his cigar he reclined upon the sand. 



Home Wanderings. 317 

under a fragrant pine, and listened to a novel, read 
aloud by one of the party, interrupted, perhaps, by 
the sound of a gun from an absent member, shooting 
ducks upon the lake, or by the melancholy cry of the 
loon. 

When a telegram, announcing illness in the family 
of Mr. Church, summoned the happy little party sud- 
denly home, Mr. Appleton bore the enforced haste of 
the return with his usual cheerfulness and gayety. 

This reminiscence of the last camping excursion 
is anticipated, in order that it may find its place with 
the other out-door episodes of Mr. Appleton's varied 
life. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

COMMONWEALTH AVENUE. 

1864-1874. J 

With the death of Mr. Nathan Appleton, in 1861, 
the letters come to an, end which have hitherto served 
as the best journal of his son's life. From that time 
until his own death, the sources of information to be 
relied on are but the ever-fresh recollections of his i 
surviving friends. 

Thomas took a lively interest in the enlargement 
of Boston by the addition of the Back Bay lands. 
Everything, indeed, which tended to the adornment 
and improvement of his native town was sure to find 
his ready sympathy. He had already been active in 
the project, successfully carried through, of erecting 
the statue to Benjamin Franklin, in School Street. 
He was, from the first, a trustee of the Public Library, 
as he had been, from its early beginning in Pearl 
Street, one of the Boston Athenaeum. 

He watched with delight the rapid growth of 
streets on the " New Land," and, when Commonwealth 



Commonwealth Avenue. 319 

Avenue was laid out, he was among the first to make 
sure of possessing a house-lot while he could select 
the best situation. He chose one on the north side, 
with sun at the back, near the Public Garden, next 
his friend Mr. Erastus Bigelow. Then followed the 
absorbing interest of building, under the advice of an 
experienced architect. 

The result was a delightful library, with a house 
built round it. In a long, large room in the middle of 
the lower floor were arranged low book-cases on all 
sides, where his collection of books, accumulating for 
years, might now expand and "suffer themselves to be 
admired." The room was lighted from above by 
means of a well, running up through the house. Soft 
light, through a ground-glass ceiling, fell upon the 
pictures gathered together from his frequent travels in 
Europe. His favorite pictures hung always in this 
room, where he loved to spend the greater part of his 
time ; but they overflowed into the drawing-room, 
which occupied the front part of the house, and into 
the sunny dining-room behind ; they climbed the 
stairs, ornamenting the halls, and invaded the large 
bedrooms, penetrating to the very top, where the 
billiard-room occupied the front of the upper story. 
Mr. Appleton used to say that he never bought a 
picture unless he liked it. His taste, cultivated by the 
long study of the best, was admirable, while at the 



320 Thomas G. Applet on. 

same time it was always indulgent. He was never 
afraid to buy a picture that he liked, and his kind 
sympathy for talent and genius wherever he found it, 
above all, in his fellow-countrymen, led him to encour- 
age many a struggling artist, not only with words of 
praise and just criticism, but by the more solid test of 
a purchase. His own pictures also added their charm 
to the series, helping to tell the tale of his wanderings. 
His copy of the " Madonna della Seggiola," taken, in 
his first enthusiasm, from the original in the Pitti 
Palace, at Florence, hung for many years on the 
wall of the dining-room, by most of the guests in that 
hospitable place little suspected to be the work of 
their host. 

So full did the large house become with all the 
pictures, books, bibelots, curios of all sorts, it seems 
hard to understand how its owner could have pre- 
viously lived in closer quarters ; the numbers have 
gone on in rapid increase, until now, at the sad break- 
ing-up of this home, it is a difficult task to imagine 
what will become of them all. Mr. Appleton in his 
later years was an insatiable reader, and books poured 
into the house — not only books, but magazines, re- 
views, weeklies, daily newspapers. A pile of the latest 
foreign literature from Schonhoff found its place in a 
corner of the library, until, in a short time, it had been 
thoroughly read; then it disappeared to the binder, to 



Commonwealth Avenue, 321 

be replaced by a new set ; the bound books, in due 
time returning in their pretty coats of calf and paper, 
were relegated to closets and shelves above-stairs, until 
every crack and corner were filled, and then the 
cry was, "Bridget, what shall be done with these 
books?" 

Unlike many book-collectors, Mr. Appleton was 
always ready and willing to lend ; but even this habit 
of his did not perceptibly diminish the amount. 

The death of Mrs. Longfellow, in 1861, closely fol- 
lowed as it was by that of Mr. Nathan Appleton, came 
as a double blow and terrible shock to the brother and 
son. The affection and reverence he held for his father 
was the underlying sentiment of his life from early 
childhood; as has been seen in his letters, the closest 
confidence existed between them, and, in his ripening 
manhood, the intimacy between them was more like a 
friendship of young men than the usual ties between 
son and father. Next to this feeling, his affection for 
his sisters held its place in his heart. Since the mar- 
riage of Mrs. Longfellow, to watch her happiness, and 
the growth of her young family, had been among his 
chiefest satisfactions. He became deeply attached to 
Mr. Longfellow, and upon all these dear ones, including 
the absent sister in London and her children, he con- 
centrated the warmth of an affectionate nature. Two 
of the circle were now gone — suddenly taken away, 



322 Thomas G, Appleton. 

and at the same time. The blow to the current of his 
life was a sharp and severe one. 

A marked characteristic of Mr. Appleton's mind 
was his vivid perception of the other world. At all 
times his sense of the nearness of those who have left 
us was active ; his faith in the unseen ran, like a 
bright thread, through all his currents of thought. It 
was this tendency that made him ready to investigate 
and even accept the wonders of " spiritualism," so 
called, growing out of the phenomena of magnetism 
and table-tipping; seeking, as he always did, the high- 
est manifestations of spirit through matter. It would 
be a mistake to suppose that he derived his belief in 
another world, in the presence around us of spirits, 
and his firm conviction of the reality of future exist- 
ence, from the idle feats of the medium and the tip- 
ping-table; on the contrary, he grew weary, in his 
latest years, of such manifestations, because they took 
on methods too coarse and material to match in any 
measure the delicacy of his own perceptions. It was 
his theory — not taught him by Hume, or any mer- 
cenary medium, but his own — that the spirit-world is 
ever close to the world of matter ; and that, with the 
advance of time, the slight barrier between them may 
be broken down. Such a conviction, underlying as it 
did his whole being, and not merely taken up from 
time to time as a matter for speculation, made the 



Commonwealth Avenue. 323 

memory and presence of his lost friends ever near 
to him, though it might not do away with the pain of 
losing their daily intercourse. 

The wandering years were over. Mr. Appleton 
was now prepared to reap the benefit, in tranquil and 
wise living, of the years of intellectual training that 
had gone before. Ripe in years and judgment, he 
was fitted to give to his town and to his time an 
example of the results of the highest culture upon a 
generous nature. 

His ideal of twenty years before, " of improving 
his character and mind, and living modestly on a 
moderate income," had indeed been fulfilled, but at 
the same time he had been, consciously or uncon- 
sciously, educating himself for the position of a man 
of means. The inheritance left him by his father, by 
judicious management, went on increasing until his 
death ; in the wise dispensing of his ample fortune, 
the liberal sharing of his possessions with the less 
fortunate, revealed him as a man accomplished in the 
difficult art of generous living. It has been said, 
especially of America, that there are plenty of men 
who can make money, but few who know how to 
spend it. Mr. Appleton understood and practiced the 
knowledge. He spent money for the enjoyment not 
only of himself, but of others, and was not happy 
unless the luxuries and amusements with which his 



324 Thomas G, Applet on, 

intelligence, even more than his wealth, surrounded 
him, were amply shared by others. 

His health was admirable ; for he had outgrown, 
it "would seem, the hurt which affected so seriously 
his earlier years. His disposition and habits were of 
great activity ; his luxurious idleness was not indo- 
lence, for his active brain and mind were always on 
the alert. 

When the war came, in 1861, Mr. Appleton's pa- 
triotism was aflame. Like many others of his contem- 
poraries, he had nev.er been what was called a " free- 
soiler," nor an abolitionist, although a personal friend 
of Charles Sumner, and admiring his heroism for a 
cause which won his sympathy, while he shared the 
opinions of his father and the older men of Boston, in 
favor of moderation and compromise in dealing with 
the question of slavery. But when the crisis came, 
there was no faltering ; his feelings were intensely 
Northern, his speech strong and sharp against the 
rebels, and his purse open to furnish to the Northern 
army the sinews of war. Much as he loved England, 
where he had so many friends, his wrath knew no 
bounds for the English tendency to sympathize with 
the South ; his brilliant, witty tongue lashed those 
miscreants unsparingly who dared to be on the wrong 
side. He was especially interested in the colored 
regiments ; he was a personal friend of Governor 



Commonwealth Avoiue. 325 

Andrew, and a useful one, with a hand that knew 
how to sign a check. Private and public subscrip- 
tions of all kinds found their way easily to the house 
in Commonwealth Avenue. Mr. Appleton's corre- 
spondence for the last twenty years of his life, in 
great measure, consists of letters acknowledging sums 
greater or smaller, for all sorts of enterprises, from 
those of large patriotic weight, philanthropic impor- 
tance, or aesthetic attraction, to private gifts lifting 
loads from the humblest homes. 

The winters of this period were passed in Boston, 
the summers sometimes at Newport, but oftener at 
Nahant, in the cottage shared with Mr. Longfellow. 
In these summers Mr. Appleton sketched and painted 
most industriously, his quick eye for the beauty of 
Nature selecting with great judgment the right ** bits " 
for landscape, which his favorite way of noticing was 
by transferring to large pebbles, painted in oils with 
admirable taste. In the winter, too, he painted, but 
not so much. In 1868 he discovered for the first 
time the amusement to be derived from writing to 
dictation ; and after that he composed a number of 
essays prepared in this way for the press. Never be- 
fore had he published anything, with the exception of 
a few fugitive poems ; after his early journals had 
come to an end, his pen ceased to be so active as 

before. It is much to be regretted that his delightful 
28 



326 Thomas G. Applet on, 

letters too had grown " small by degrees." He found 
dictating was more like talking than writing down in 
silence and solitude words for an unknown audience. 
Nothing that he has dictated can compare in brill- 
iancy with his talk ; but the essays thus written have 
preserved reminiscences and speculations that would 
otherwise be wholly lost. 

In this full, active life of philanthropy and intel- 
lectual enjoyment the years slipped by, the old rov- 
ing instinct lessened but not wholly lost. In 1866, 
to satisfy his own fondness for sailing, and to indulge 
the same taste in his nephews and nieces, Mr. Ap- 
pleton gave orders for the building of a yacht. He 
has described this, and the first voyage of the Alice 
(named for his niece, Alice Longfellow), in *' A Sheaf 
of Papers," published in 1874. He says he "felt 
himself bitten by the gad-fly of construction," and de- 
termined '* to encourage native talent and build within 
our own borders." 

When the Alice was finished, the young people, 
whose pleasure it was built to serve, were seized with 
a desire to cross the Atlantic in it. Mr. Appleton was 
still young enough to sympathize with this longing, 
and his consent was soon obtained. 

" Parents and relatives were weak before the ardor 
of youth, and, to the astonishment of many and the 



I 



Commonwealth Avemie. 327 

terror of some, the little creature was actually soon 
found to be taking in stores, and then quietly facing 
the breadth of the ocean, as if she were an India-man 
or a Cunarder. Amid many hands upheld in warn- 
ing, many solemn words of discouragement, with three 
stalwart, confident seamen, with a youthful captain, 
who has seen his flag fly in every quarter of the world, 
and a quaint Chinese steward, whose face suggested 
remoter foreign parts than it was proposed to visit, 
away went the Alice." 

The captain was Arthur Clark, and the other young 
men were Charles Longfellow and his friend Harry 
Stanfield. Mr. Appleton published his recollections 
of the voyage in the " Sheaf of Papers." 

While the yacht was triumphantly making its way 
through the waters, its owner crossed in a steamer, and 
joined his young friends at Cowes on their arrival. 
The little vessel was received with wonder in England, 
and her officers with courtesy, who passed the summer 
in sharing the honors of their craft. They returned 
home in the autumn, leaving the yacht to winter at 
Cowes. She was brought back the next spring, and, 
for many a happy summer, was the point around which 
centered the pleasures of the young people, and of 
their indulgent uncle as well. Year after year, from 
the piazza of the house at Nahant, the Alice was to be 



328 Thomas G. Apple ton. 

seen all through the summer, at her moorings within 
easy whistling-distance. At the summons of a note, 
or the waving of a handkerchief, the skipper comes on 
shore to receive his orders. For a few moments all is 
bustle in the house, running up-stairs for wraps, search- 
ing for parasols j the morning newspaper and the novel 
must not be forgotten, nor the cigar. The gay party 
hastens to the rocks just below the house, where a. 
" bright " boat, manned by dapper, saluting sailors, lies 
waiting to row them to the yacht. The broad sail is 
up, the anchor-chain ,is wound,' Mr. Longfellow from 
the piazza waves a genial farewell, and the graceful Alice 
glides from her moorings and sweeps away, freighted 
with happy spirits — none more gay, none so important 
to the pleasure of the day, as the master of the yacht. 

One of the pleasantest of his European tours was 
made by Mr. Appleton in i868-*69, when he went with 
Mr. Longfellow and his daughters abroad. To revisit 
old, familiar scenes in company with such dear friends 
is the best form of traveling. A part of the winter 
was passed in Rome, going over the old ground, now 
enhanced by the presence of many acquaintances. 

The following years were spent at home — the 
winters in Commonwealth Avenue, the summers at Na- 
hant. 

Although Mr. Appleton at this time lived alone, 
his hospitality was such that he was seldom left to 



Commonwealth Avenite. 329 

himself ; a small circle of intimate friends was always 
about him, many of them artists. Among these may 
be mentioned Mr. Petersen, whose marine -pictures, 
and his thorough knowledge of everything belonging 
to ships and boats, were very attractive to Mr. Apple- 
ton ; and especially Mr. William Allan Gay, between 
whom and Mr. Appleton there was a warm and lasting 
friendship. At that time Mr. Gay was very important 
to Mr. Appleton, as an ardent enthusiast for art, and 
an appreciative listener. The closeness of their inti- 
macy, never broken, was interrupted only by Mr. 
Gay's departure for Japan. His fine picture of a 
wood-interior hung always in the library, where Mr. 
Appleton could see it, when enjoying his cigar upon 
his favorite sofa. He had the happy faculty of enjoy- 
ing his own possessions, and especially his pictures, 
and not losing sight of them through familiarity, as 
sometimes happens. He often spoke of the lasting 
charm of this subject and its treatment. 

From all his European travels the Nil6 and Syria 
had hitherto been omitted, and, as he advanced in life, 
Mr. Appleton had it on his mind that this Eastern tour 
was yet to be accomplished. In the autumn of 1874, 
after various false starts, he found himself in Florence, 
on his way to Egypt, without as yet having secured for 
himself any party or congenial companion. 

One day, in a gallery in Venice, he entered into 



330 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

conversation with an artist who was copying before 
one of the masterpieces of the collection. After some 
easy, agreeable talk on matters of art, this gentleman, 
turning round, said : 

" Although I have never seen him, I should guess 
you were Mr. Tom Appleton." 

" What ! are you so good a Yankee as that ? You 
have guessed right." 

" I have heard my friend Kensett describe you and 
your ' talk ' so often, that it was impossible not to rec- 
ognize you," replied the artist, who then introduced 
himself as Mr. Eugene Benson. 

In less than five minutes, according to Mr. Apple- 
ton's way of telling the story, he had invited Benson 
to join him and go up the Nile. It had been the 
dream of the artist's life, hitherto unattainable. On 
learning that his new friend, less " unattached " than 
himself, was married, Mr. Appleton at once extended 
the invitation to his wife and her daughter, Miss 
Fletcher, and thus a party was rapidly formed of just 
the right size, and, as it proved, of admirable elements ; 
the proposal proved one of those lucky hits which Mr. 
Appleton always loved, which insured in advance their 
own success, by the pride he felt in his " flair," as he 
used to call it. 

They all repaired to Alexandria and Cairo ; a da- 
habieh was procured, with all the accompanying para- 



K 



Cominonwealth Avenue. 331 

phernalia of dragoman, cook, sailors, provisions, etc. 
The winter was passed upon the Nile in high enjoy- 
ment ; sketching, shooting, writing, filled up the time, 
with ever-flowing congenial conversation. 

Miss Fletcher's pen was ready to put on paper the 
journal dictated by Mr. Appleton, and this account 
of the trip was published in London and Boston, on 
the return. In the spring Mr. Appleton went into 
Syria, with the same companions, and then returned 
as far as England, where he visited Mrs. Mackintosh. 

That summer, with his niece, Eva Mackintosh, and 
a friend, Mrs. Erskine, he made a trip into Scotland, 
and the habit of dictation then being strong upon him, 
they kept a journal, which begins thus : 

" Oban, August 22, 1875. 

"That double Sabbath of Scotland, of seriousness 
as well as rain, constrains us Lowlanders, kirkless and 
confined, to attempt our long-contemplated journal. 
We have hours behind us too faint and far for 
memory, though here and there some peculiar gleam 
of brightness holds the past unforgotten. 

" A jolly triad of us — an oldish gentleman, doubled 
by two young women, make our party. Two of us 
feel the pull of Scottish blood in our veins, and the 
other, at least, is so saturated with Scott and Burns 
as not to be behind them in interest." 



332 Thomas G. Apple ton. 

They went by rail to Glasgow, up the Clyde in 
a little steamer, running upon Loch Gyle, to its 
head, the scene of Campbell's poem, " Lord Ullin's 
Daughter." 

*' What we saw was no dark and stormy water, but 
imagination could see the black and boiling loch into 
which the conflict of marital and parental love drove 
that fated pair. Evidently the chief of Ulva's Isle 
was a man of small possessions, and that silver pound 
may have been his last penny, in which case he may 
have been well out of the scrape altogether." 

At Inverness he writes : 

**The Assizes have begun, and Lord Muir has 
opened the court. I was just in time the first day 
to see his lordship return to the Caledonian Hotel. 
Justice was not without its pomp and circumstance. 
His lordship's carriage was drawn by four horses, 
with two postilions ; he was escorted by a file of 
Highland soldiers in kilt and sporran, the pipers play- 
ing away at their head, followed by a silent band. His 
lordship was attired in white satin, with scarlet crosses 
upon it, a hood of scarlet ; above all a wig towered, 
divided into little curls, and over all something flat, 
like a buckwheat-cake. It was high-jinks with the 
barefooted gamins of both sexes; they followed the 



Commonwealth Avenue. 2)Z2i 

band with a tenacity which I emulated, and we all 
marched to the playing of the pipers down Church 
Street and over the bridge to the barracks, where all 
but the band were dismissed, but I stuck to them, with 
only three other gamins, till we reached the bridge 
near the cathedral; there they disappeared, and I 
came home musing upon the advantage it would be 
to us in America if justice there had these august 
surroundings. Yet Justice Gray persists in towering 
upon the bench in the simple dignity of his white 
cravat." 

Thus, in alternate travel and repose in picturesque 
places, the month of September was passed. The 
journal closes on the first of October, with an account 
of the' wedding, at the cathedral, of the Lord of the 
Isles : 

"The bridegroom drove up in coach-and-four, 
with postilions in scarlet jackets. Later came the 
fair array of bridesmaids, and last of all, in a fly, the 
bride and her father. She was very handsome, and 
her dress perfection. Many of the party came in full 
Highland dress, and never have I seen such a display 
of beautiful stockings ; they looked like a procession 
of those plaid boxes which Edinburgh offers to the 
traveler." 



334 



Thomas G. Appleton. 



Not long after Mr. Appleton returned to America. 
This was really his last voyage across the Atlantic. 
Spain was still unvisited, and Norway ; plans for 
journeys to t?iese countries often occupied him, but 
were never realized. The attractions of home, the 
magnet in his sofa and fireside, became too powerful 
even for his hitherto insatiable thirst for travel, and 
he was content to " fight his battles o'er again," for 
delighted listeners, and occasionally to dictate remi- 
niscences of the past for the pleasure of the public. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

YEARS OF REPOSE. 
1875-1883. 

Nearly all of the last ten years of his life were 
passed by Mr. Appleton in the tranquil enjoyment of 
the comforts and luxuries by which he was surrounded, 
and the active use of his faculties and talents for the 
benefit of others. After the maturity of manhood, it 
may be said that a man's life from day to day is but 
the printing off of impressions from the types of char- 
acter which have been set in earlier years. In such 
impressions may be read the lessons learned, the ex- 
periences stored up in those previous hours, and by 
them may be judged the value of the course of life 
which set these types and no others. 

Mr. Appleton's friends, now that he is gone, love 
to remember the home he made for his last years, 
comfortable without parade, luxurious without osten- 
tation. The arrangements of the household were ex- 
actly as he liked them ; that everybody who had the 



33^ Thomas G. Apple Ion. 

luck to share them liked them as well, is a proof that 
his taste and judgment were of the best. His serv- 
ants were devoted to their indulgent master. He 
was served from affection rather than obligation. 

During these years, Mr. Appleton's brother Na- 
than lived with him, the affection between them being 
so strong that each had become indispensable to the 
other. With the double management of these two 
heads of the household, there never seemed lacking 
that feminine influence which is said to be all-im- 
portant to the proper regulation of a home. But any 
account of the establishment would be incomplete 
without some mention of the faithful housekeeper, of 
admirable intelligence and tact, who for years reigned 
supreme in her department, carrying out the will, ex- 
pressed or only guessed, of her chief. Mr. Appleton's 
hospitality, to which there was no limit, sometimes 
put the resources of Bridget to a severe test, but she 
was always equal to the occasion. The latest, least 
expected arrival at the crowded table was welcomed 
by her quiet smile, though a slight contraction of the 
brow might hint her anxiety lest the soup might not 
go round, but in fact there was never any difficulty 
on that score. 

It will not be easy to forget the charm of that 
dinner-table, round, well lighted from above, bright 
with fine damask and tasteful appointments, the host 



Years of Repose. 2>Z7 

at its head always genial, never more entertaining 
than when he saw a circle of merry faces around the 
board ; never less agreeable, however, when the num- 
ber was reduced to its smallest limit. Mr. Appleton 
believed in the gospel of good-eating, maintaining 
that the pleasures of the palate were given us to en- 
joy, as much as those of sight and sound. Marvelous 
were the huge turkeys, fat capons, and generous sir- 
loins that appeared upon his table ; but the charm 
was not in these, but in his own unflagging conversa- 
tion and bright spirit of conviviality. 

Mr. Appleton was an early riser. Even in winter 
he was up and out for a little walk before breakfast, 
by eight o'clock or half past, often without an over- 
coat, greeting the letter-carrier, the newsboy, and his 
early neighbors, as they went down-town, with cheer- 
ful praise or vigorous abuse of the weather. He loved 
the eccentricities of the Boston climate, for the very 
extremity of it. " The whip of the sky," he called 
the east wind lashing the Inhabitants into desperate 
energy. 

" Is it not delicious ? Is it not delightfully con- 
sistent ?" he would exclaim, joyfully opening the door 
himself to some wind-blown guest, when the gale was 
sweeping gusts of snow and sleet along the avenue. 

After breakfast and his newspaper, his custom was 

to paint for an hour or two, either In oils or water- 
29 



338 Thomas G. Applet on. 

color, enjoying the work for its own sake, and for the 
memories of lovely nature it called up. Then he 
never failed to start for a walk, often without any 
definite object in view. Fortunate was the chance 
companion he might invite to join him on one of 
these delightfully vague excursions ; in and out of pict- 
ure-shops, book-stores, carpet-warehouses (if by good 
luck Bridget had told him he needed a new carpet). 
Everybody knew him. Briggs rejoiced to see him 
enter his carefully-spread and tempting snares, and 
Doll and Richards pricked up their ears as the light 
tap of his cane sounded upon their steps. All the 
artists knew him, and each was glad when Mr. Apple- 
ton's well-known figure appeared in his doorway, 
when he took the proffered seat, and stayed perhaps 
an hour, perhaps two, talking in genial strain, prob- 
ably himself sustaining all the frais of the occasion, 
after which he rose and took his leave, saying — 
" Well, this has been a delightful conversation ! " 
A cream-cake at Fera's often satisfied him for 
lunch, after which he found his way home again, 
across the Common and through the Garden, where 
he never failed to observe the changing flowers, and 
note with pleasure the improvements, and the won- 
derful growth of the city since his younger days, when 
Charles Street was the water-street, and the waves 
dashed against its wall. 



Years of Repose. 339 

Then came the cigar and well-earned repose upon 
his sofa, accompanied, if any listener were by, by the 
narration of his morning's experiences. He was an 
ardent smoker. A box of Upmann Brevas stood al- 
ways in a corner easily accessible ; in this, as in every- 
thing else, he used moderation and method, and never 
exceeded the number of cigars per diem which he 
found suited him the best. 

Reading occupied the rest of the daylight hours. 
Mr. Appleton read for the pure love of reading, and 
his taste in books was very general ; serious, gay, 
heavy, light, scientific, or frivolous subjects all com- 
manded his attention ; he read thoroughly, and sel- 
dom forgot what he read, and could give an abstract 
of a biography, or an exploring expedition, often more 
pithy than the book from which it was derived. All 
the new books, all the magazines, all the daily and 
weekly papers came into that house, and none re- 
mained unopened. 

Then came darkness upon the short days of winter, 
and cheerful fire-light in the coldest evenings made 
the library bright. The dinner-hour was every day a 
time for enjoyment, prolonged to its utmost by delay 
and pleasant chat. In the evening, at one time, Mr. 
Appleton had the habit of dictating his letters to an 
amanuensis, or the text of the volumes of essays pub- 
lished at that time. For the last few years, however, 



340 Thomas G, Appleton, 

he preferred, most of all, listening to reading ; and, in 
the quiet room, when the guests had gone, under the 
light of softened lamps, the harmonious litter of books, 
papers, Christmas-cards, invitations, scattered broad- 
cast over tables and book-shelves, how many a ro- 
mance, how many a biography, he has listened to with 
appreciative delight ! 

Mr. Appleton dearly loved a novel. He liked best 
a good one, but he was not above enjoying a bad one ; 
and, with generous sympathy for the difficulties of au- 
thors, discovered the merits even of doubtful efforts. 
In literature, as in art, he was a most indulgent critic, 
making all allowance for the intention of the workman, 
tolerating some books which many a reader finds dull ; 
but a really clever book, with an intricate plot and 
sparkling conversation, delighted him. 

With his convivial habits and gifts of conversation, 
Mr. Appleton, of course, was much in demand in so- 
ciety, receiving plenty of invitations during the gay 
season. He had always liked dining out, which is not 
to be wondered at, as he was sure to be the life of the 
table, and he readily accepted the demands made on 
him by his friends. In his latest years, however, and 
especially after his fall on the ice, in 1877, he grew a 
little weary of so much visiting, and gradually came 
to prefer the quiet evenings at home. He enjoyed the 
theatre, and seldom missed a new play, or an old fa- 



Years of Repose. 341 

vorite. He had seen all the great performers of his 
time, but never spoiled his own enjoyment of the 
present, by comparing the actor he was seeing with 
the phoenixes of the past. During the last winter of 
his life he saw every play, at least once, of Irving and 
Miss Terry. His pleasure in their performance was 
just as keen as at the triumphs of Grisi and Taglioni 
fifty years before. 

*' Now we are perfectly sure of a good time," he 
said every night, as the door was shut of the cab 
which was taking him, through storm and sleet, to the 
Boston Theatre to see " Louis XI," " The Bells," and 
all the rest. 

Such were the winter pursuits of the last few years. 
In summer, Mr. Appleton's favorite home was the 
house at Nahant, than which it is difficult to imagine 
anything pleasanter, especially during the lifetime of 
Mr. Longfellow, who shared the place with his brother- 
in-law. There was a warm affection between these 
two men, which deepened as they grew older. The 
death of Mr. Longfellow, in 1882, was a great loss to 
Mr. Appleton — one more of the events which loosened 
his hold upon this life, and turned his thoughts, always 
conversant with the things of another world, more con- 
stantly to the life beyond. 

At Nahant was the yacht Alice, and the ever-lovely 
sea, with the town and sunset-view across the water. 



\ 



342 Thomas G, Applet on. 

The piazza there took the place of the cozy library in 
town, and there Mr. Appleton passed luxurious hours, 
with his cigar, surrounded by books and papers. A 
daily walk, varied by calls upon his neighbors — for in 
every house at Nahant he was a welcome visitor — and 
a drive across the beach, or perhaps as far as the Ap- 
pleton pulpit at Saugus, filled up the day, with some- 
times an ocean-bath. 

A new generation had come up to claim his atten- 
tion. His niece, Mrs, Dana, was often with him at 
Nahant, and her children were a great source of satis- 
faction to him. The house in town, on Sundays espe- 
cially, overflowed with children, the two families of 
his half-brother and sister. These young people re- 
produced, to his thought, their parents, who also had 
come about him as children, regarding, as they had 
done, " Uncle Tom " as a source of manifold bless- 
ings. 

Once or twice Mr. Appleton was persuaded to 
leave the comforts of home, to which he was becom- 
ing more and more bound, for short excursions not far 
away. One of these was a trip to North Carolina, in the 
autumn of 1880, with Mr. and Mrs. F. E. Church and 
the present writer. The journey was a most agreeable 
one, the mountain-scenery of North Carolina proving 
as fine as it had been described. The party spent ten 
days delightfully at Warm Springs, in a pleasant, old, 



./ 



Years of Repose. 343 

rambling hotel. Mr. Appleton was as active as of old, 
and as keenly awake to the amusements of the place. 
Always a wonderful traveler, his spirits rose with the 
discomforts of bad inns, bad food, and sleepless 
nights. He never was funnier than on one occasion, 
in the middle of the night, when the train was late, 
and there was nothing to do but to walk up and down 
the hideous carpet of a dreary hotel-parlor, between 
one and two a. m., for an hour or more. Mr. Apple- 
ton said he enjoyed it ; and, with his gay talk, kept 
the party not only awake but merry until the arrival 
of the train. 

He kept up his relations with friends and things in 
New York till the last, generally making a visit there 
in the spring of each year, as much at home there, in 
the galleries, shops, studios, and drawing-rooms, as in 
Boston. These trips were sometimes extended as far 
as Washington. Two or three weeks sufficed for such 
absences, and he returned to Commonwealth Avenue 
to Bridget, to the dogs and birds, with content. 

These genial pursuits did not prevent him from 
maintaining a lively interest in the public matters of 
Boston. The Art Museum was his favorite hobby ; 
his walks often tended toward it, and he delighted to 
show friends and strangers what it contained. He was 
the best cicerone for the treasures of it ; indeed, he 
prepared a short addition to its catalogue, full of infor- 



344 Thomas G. Apple ton, 

mation valuable to the visitor ; but it was far better to 
hear him talk about the statues and pictures. He lin- 
gered always before the busts of the Roman emperors ; 
like the likenesses of old friends, they called up to him 
the characters and lives of those whom they repre- 
sented. He had many a personal anecdote connected 
with the objects of art in the various rooms. 

It would be too long to enumerate the many ob- 
jects for the adornment and improvement of Boston 
in which he took an active share ; and vain to try to 
reveal the countless kindnesses, pecuniary or other- 
wise, which dropped from his open hand, unknown 
and unmentioned, upon the objects of his sympathy. 
In that direction no day was without its mark. 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE LAST. 
1884. 

In the autumn of 1883 the friends of Mr. Apple- 
ton could not have failed to observe a slight change 
coming over him, which even then seemed to them a 
faint foreshadowing, not of the end, but of approach- 
ing old age. Although he had passed his seventieth 
year, he had still up to this time been as young in his 
feelings as any of his circle. Now there appeared a 
little flagging of the hitherto undaunted spirit. His 
sense of hearing, always remarkably quick to catch a 
chance for repartee, the song of a bird, the roll of 
waves upon the shore, began to fail him, according to 
his own impression, though others did not perceive it. 
He was advised to consult an aurist. 

" It may be only wax in your ears," said some one, 
consolingly. 

" Ah, my dear ! " he replied, " I fear it is not wax, 
but wane." 



34^ Thomas G. Applet on. 

How idle to repeat such things as these, which, 
lacking the manner, the glance, the smile, which be- 
longed with them, convey no point to the reader ! 

He became more attached to his sofa, more in- 
different to the invitations of society, put off demands 
upon his time requiring exertion, and sometimes sent 
away the carriage waiting at the door for him to 
drive. 

Yet he never was more genial, more sympathetic, 
more gentle in his judgment of men and things. In 
his earlier years, very likely, he was willing to pass 
sharp sentences upon follies and crimes, even upon 
acts which did not excite his sympathy ; but of late 
this was changed. It was easy to turn away his wrath, 
about to fall upon some imagined offender in a torrent 
of condemnation, by a few gentle words defending the 
absent sinner. " You are quite right," he would say ; 
** I am glad to hear so much good of him. No doubt 
he is an excellent fellow." 

It would be pleasant to linger over those hours, so 
pleasant while they were passing ; so sweet, so sad, to 
recall now that they are gone forever. Those who 
enjoyed them would fain have put forth a detaining 
hand to check their rapid flight, but this could not be. 
Mr. Appleton's devoted brother, and the friends near- 
est him, saw the gradual change with unspoken pain ; 
found themselves, to their surprise, called upon at the 



in/7 



MCV-4l34i 



The Last. 347 

bright dinner-table to be talkers rather than listeners, 
because the host, who once had needed no spur to be 
the life of the party, now sat listening, though always 
cheerful and pleased. No one thought of death, but 
perhaps of long years of failing perceptions, senses 
dimmed, and activity repressed. Perhaps he himself 
saw something of this in the future ; and bravely, si- 
lently prepared himself to play the part of old age, 
retired from the active scene he so long had distin- 
guished. 

From such a decline he was spared. It was better 
that a brief, unexpected illness, without much suffer- 
ing, should close a life with which it would be hard to 
associate the ideas of physical failure and infirmity. 
His last hours were distinguished by the same bright 
cheerfulness which ruled his later years. In the full 
possession of his faculties to the last, it is easy to 
imagine that he approached with intense satisfaction 
the portals of the other world — the solution of the 
mystery of the two lives which had ever occupied his 
earnest and devout speculations. 



No effort has been made in this little memoir to 
adorn or add to the story of a life spent in the pursuit 
and use of the highest things. It may be seen, with- 
out comment, that, from the beginning to the end, Mr, 



348 Thomas G. Applet on. 

Appleton's course of intelligent travel, his search for 
the best in Nature and in art, his intercourse with the 
leading minds of his time, were fitting him for the 
position he was destined to fill — of a leader in artistic 
thought and advanced cultivation in his native to-vn. 

Since his death it has been frequently said that 
there is no one to fill his place in Boston. Truly, the 
position he held there, as authority in all matters of 
art and literature, foremost in brilliant conversation, 
a liberal protector of talent in every line, was not 
lightly won. It was the well-earned result of a youth 
and manhood spent in wide and liberal self-culture, 
resulting in a knowledge scattered broadcast for the 
benefit of all who came within its influence. 



THE END. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

iiilllB 

015 785 323 5 ^ 



